


Never Let Go

by chickadee333



Series: My Joker x Harleen Quinzel Series [2]
Category: DC Extended Universe, DCU, DCU (Comics), Suicide Squad (2016), Suicide Squad (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anger, Angst, Backstory, Deadshot - Freeform, Death, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Floyd watkins, Fluff, Full length story, Gotham City - Freeform, Jack napier as a child, Jack napier past relationship, John Blake - Freeform, Joker as a child, Joker porn, Joker smut, Joker's backstory, JxHQ, Kidnapping, Leto Joker, Life with joker, Love, New character history, Nick hughes, Novel, Oral Sex, Original Characters - Freeform, Original Content - Freeform, Past Joker/Harleen Quinzel, Plot, Rape, Sequel, Sex, Sexual Assault, Smut, Tension, Violence, Young Joker, Young jack napier, blowjob, club, harleen quinzel backstory, healthy relationship, impossible love, jxh, mansion, never let go, porn with a plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-03-30 12:09:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 36
Words: 119,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13951263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chickadee333/pseuds/chickadee333
Summary: What happens when Dr. Harleen Quinzel is kidnapped and held captive by none other than the Joker’s former business partner and best friend? How does Harleen deal with the psychological torment and what does she learn about the true Jack Napier? What incredible family secrets are hiding in Joker’s very distant past? How did he become The Joker that we know and fear today? And can he rescue Harleen before it is too late?All of these questions—and so much more—are answered in Never Let Go, the sequel to Impossible Love. Steel yourself for a gritty and heart-wrenching love story that continues to explore the relationship between Joker and Harleen. This story has many plot twists coupled with lots of character development, a healthy dash of smut, and a good deal of violence. Just as with the first novel, this story intends to portray a more realistic interpretation of their histories and personalities, as if they were two very real people living in modern-day Gotham City. A new backstory for young Jack Napier is presented that just might leave you on the edge of your seat!





	1. Chapter 1

The room was dark and cold with a stale, dusty smell in the air. Harleen awoke with a pain across the front of her neck as she struggled to sit up.

“ _What the_ —” she whispered to herself as she awoke from her disorienting stupor. Her hands and her ankles were held together with something tight.

 _What is this? Duct tape?_ She tried to pull her hands apart but was not successful. Her heart started to race as she realized that she was on a hard, concrete floor and she was most definitely bound. She felt dizzy, like she had been drugged. No longer able to hold her head up or even think, she collapsed onto the cold floor and fell asleep.

*****

“Don’t go out... Not tonight,” Joker pleaded with Harleen in his gruff voice as he sat at the edge of the bed watching his fiancée rush from the closet to the bathroom preparing for a night on the town. “Stay home with me instead.”

“Oh, J...” Harleen stopped and turned to look at the unusual yet handsome man as she put on her silver hoop earrings. “We talked about this. Everything is going to be totally fine—I promise you. You know it’s Vanessa’s birthday and I promised her that I would take her to Gotham to celebrate. You know how long it’s been... Plus she’s really looking forward to seeing Phantom of the Opera!” Harleen disappeared into the closet to locate a pair of shoes while loudly humming the theme tune to the musical.

Joker sat on the bed looking down at his hands with a scowl. He knew she was right. He knew she needed her space and freedom to do what she wanted, but he just didn’t feel right about this evening—especially in light of her recent scare.

Sighing heavily, he stood up and walked to the wall of windows that provided a view of his extensively manicured backyard. The vapor in his hot breath condensed on the window pane as he rested his forehead against his arm while gazing out upon his estate. By all accounts, he was a lucky man. He had an incalculable fortune, he had a team of loyal associates, he had a beautiful woman who had agreed to marry him—a woman he felt that he did not deserve.

It had been over six months since he proposed to her on his birthday in April. The intervening summer months seemed to simultaneously pass in an instant while also lasting forever. The time spent with Harleen was magical; _she_ was magical. She was loving and understanding and forgiving, and he... he didn’t deserve it. He continued to believe deep down that he was a monster who was not worthy of her love. Why would he be? He was a thief, a murderer... an all-around _bad guy._

But Harleen didn’t mind, or so she said. _You can’t help who you fall in love with,_ she told him many times. He believed that she loved him, but he always felt that he was holding her back from doing more. Maybe she didn’t want this kind of life. Maybe she wanted a nine-to-five job with 2.5 kids and the white picket fence.

He was afraid that he had stifled her over the past six months. She was a brilliant woman and yet she had no career as a doctor since she left Arkham—since he had _kidnapped_ her from Arkham as the authorities had everyone believe. Sure, they did a lot of things together from vacations to date nights to mind-blowing sex, but Joker knew deep down that she was unfulfilled.

She even offered to help with his business as he started to divest his interests in certain ventures, thus reeling in the expanse of his empire but not closing up shop entirely. In his mind, his business had grown too bulky—too bloated. There was too much overhead, too many staff members, too many moving parts.

He found himself lamenting the days when he worked out of a warehouse in Harlem with Frost and a handful of other men. Each night they raised hell from robbing banks and jewelry stores to dabbling in local drug and gun trades. The operation was small, but it was fun. Now, it was too much. Joker was not the kind of man who should care about international sporting events—he didn’t even like sports. But his gambling operation pulled him into that world.

His business enterprise certainly became more sophisticated over time and he was glad to be living a life of comfort and luxury. However, when Harleen stepped into his life, he seized the opportunity to downsize so he could focus on her. He simply didn’t have the time or energy for the rest.

“How do I look?” Harleen asked the green-haired man leaning against the window, staring out at the water beyond the trees deep in thought. He did not answer.

“J...” Harleen said in a faux-frustrated voice.

“Oh, hm?” Joker said as he snapped from his trance.

“How do I look?” Harleen asked again.

Joker looked her up and down. She wore a sleeveless aqua dress that reached her knees and hugged every curve, accented by a wide black belt and shiny black heels. Her arms were adorned with thin silver bangles and her neck with a long silver necklace made of several delicate chains. Her hair fell along her shoulders in big, loose curls that framed her face with the perfection of a supermodel. Joker smirked and revealed a crescent of his silver teeth as he walked toward her.

“You... look...” he began, searching for the right words, “drop-dead gorgeous. Stay with me tonight instead, hm?” He grabbed her soft hand and pulled her body to his, holding her for a moment. “See... what... you... do... to... me?” he asked between kisses that he placed on the side of her neck while moving her hand to his crotch where he made her feel how erect he was becoming at the sight of her.

“J... not now, we agreed on this,” she said softly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and giving him a tight squeeze. With her heels on, her head reached his neck—whereas normally she would lay her head on his chest—and she breathed in the familiar scent of the sweet cologne on his skin. She couldn’t help but get a little turned on as she felt his hardening member pressing against her abdomen during their embrace.

“Maybe later,” she pushed her pelvis into his before pulling away and tapping him gently on the tip of his nose with her index finger.

She loved the man standing in front of her. He was sexy and powerful, but also emotionally vulnerable, which was incredibly sexy in itself. She loved that he was comfortable with her—comfortable in his own skin, as much as he could be—to the point where he only wore his Joker get-up when he was dealing his men. On this day, like many other days when they were alone, his eyes had no charcoal and his lips had no red pigment. He was beautiful in his own green-haired, pale skin, lack-of-eyebrows way.

She gently caressed his smooth jaw line and kissed him on his inviting lips. She thought of the pain that he must have experienced during the process to become the Joker—both physical and mental.

Harleen held her lips to his for a bit longer than expected so he would not see her frown or the concern in her eyes, but Joker knew. He always knew. He felt her frowns and could always see her concern... He had asked her long ago to never cry for him, but he knew that she did.

“I’m just... worried about you,” Joker revealed to her quietly as an emerald strand of hair fell into his face.

“About that guy on the street? I know you are... It was just some random pervert. I can hold my own—you taught me well.” Harleen smiled at him thinking about her training sessions—sessions that usually ended up with both of them naked and rolling around on the floor.

The muscles where his eyebrows should be located were furrowed into a knot of concern. “I just... you’re... I don’t...” Joker was grasping for the right thing to say.

Even though he had known Harleen for a year, even though he told her about his past, even though he asked her to marry him... he still had trouble exposing his emotional vulnerability to her. He wanted to tell her that he loved her, that she was the sexiest creature he ever laid eyes on, that he never wanted to let her go.

Instead, he pulled his words from the anger he always held in his chest: “If a man ever touches you again, I will spend my life hunting him down. I’ll stuff his dick down his throat and slit his neck.”

Harleen was unfazed at his words. She believed him. She stared into his crisp blue eyes as she remembered the night one of his men tried to violently assault her. Joker burst into the room and shot the man in the head and then later obliterated his face with a glass sconce—all just two feet away from her.

Her thoughts then turned to her most recent scare when she was pulled into an alley by a masked man as she was out shopping. She was in a safe place—or so she thought—but had stayed out a little too long after dusk had fallen.

Her heart began to race as she thought about the man clawing feverishly at her breasts and trying to push his hands into her jeans. As he pressed his body against hers on the dirty brick wall, Harleen’s training kicked in, prompting her to bite the man’s ear and knee him in the crotch. She remembered him falling onto the ground into a fetal position while holding her purse and yelling at her. _You fucking cunt! Get back here!_ Harleen grabbed her purse and ran as fast as she could until she saw an on-duty taxi, nearly jumping onto its hood. _Help! Get me out of here!_ She screamed at the driver as she slammed the door behind her.

When she told Joker about the incident, he vowed he would never let her go out again without an escort. However, she was somehow able to convince him that she would be perfectly safe on her trip to the theatre in mid-town Gotham with Vanessa.

“I know, J... I know,” she said. “That was over a month ago. I’m fine. I’m completely fine. Everything is going to be okay. I promise.” She leaned in again to peck him on his taut yet soft lips.

Harleen finally pulled away from their kiss and retreated to the closet stating in a lively voice that she had forgotten to put on her watch. As she emerged, she looked at her wrist and then held her fingers out and smiled as she examined the sparkles in her diamond ring, rocking her hand back and forth in the light. She looked at Joker who had taken up residence at the edge of the bed again and smiled.

“It’s so pretty,” she said.

“ _You’re_ so pretty,” he countered.

Harleen smiled flirtatiously and giggled. “Oh, it’s past three already. I gotta go get Van!”

“What about a jacket? It’s October, Harls. You know how cold it can get at night in the city,” Joker called out as she almost reached the door, always thinking of her welfare. “And what about your glasses?”

Joker stood up as Harleen walked back into the closet to grab a black, fitted jacket along with her purse and her phone.

“Contacts tonight,” she answered. “Oh, and I can’t forget _this_ ,” she said as she waved her phone at Joker and put it in her bag. She kissed him one last time and headed for the door. “Bye, puddin’, don’t wait up!”

“Text me when you’re done with dinner. Text me when you’re done with the show. Text me when you decide to leave or if you go anywhere else,” Joker said, his voice tinted with apprehension.

“I will, J. I love you,” she responded as she pursed her lips and blew a kiss before closing the door behind her.

“I love you, too,” Joker whispered aloud to himself in the quiet room. He fought against every urge to follow her or have one of his men follow her, but he knew that he had to let her go once in a while. He had to believe that she would be okay. He couldn’t keep her caged forever like an overbearing father. He had to let her have the freedom to do what she wanted without being followed by one of his men. She was her own person and he had to trust that things would be okay.

He walked back over to the window and resumed staring at the sunlit trees on the warm fall afternoon.

*****

“ _Harleeeeeeen_. Oh, pretty _Harleeeeeeen_ ,” the garbled sing-song voice called to her. “You’ve been a very, very, very bad girl.”

Harleen fought to open her eyes despite the pain she was in. She could see that she was in a small room with some metal furniture. A door opposite from her was open, allowing an awful orange light to spill in, while a crouched figure eclipsed its source.

“Oh, Harleen, you are in for a real treat,” the man in front of her said.

Harleen blinked her eyes and swallowed hard as she realized that she was still in the same cold place. Her hands and feet were still tied, and her neck still hurt.

“J?” she called out to the room, still drugged and not certain of her surroundings.

“J? Oh, J! Where is J?! He must be around here somewhere, right?” his distorted voice mocked her fear. “Oh, no, Dr. Quinzel, Your _‘J’_ is nowhere to be found. And here I thought he was your knight in shining armor.”

“Who are you? Where am I?” Harleen asked, not entirely understanding what was going on. “Why are my hands tied?”

“All in due time, dear doctor,” the figure responded.

He had somewhat of a lisp, like there was something wrong with his mouth. _Maybe he’s a former patient?_ Harleen thought in her delirium, but she was sure she had never met a man with that voice. It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

The man reached down and brushed Harleen’s blonde curls from her face. “Oh, you _are_ beautiful. Jack always did have such good taste in women. Looks like you’ll be the second fiancée of his that I fuck... and kill... Oh, and I’m gonna fuck you so hard. We’re gonna have so much fun, pretty Dr. Harleen. So much fun...”

His voice trailed off as she realized who the man was and what he wanted with her. She couldn’t hold her head up or keep her eyes open despite the orange light that seemed to be burning a hole in her eyelids.

“ _Don’t... please... Nick..._ ” she said in a mere whisper.

“Oh, well, clearly Jackie told you about me... I hope it was all good stuff!!” Nick laughed out loud, his speech impediment becoming more prominent to Harleen. “And now that we are on a first name basis, it is nice to finally meet you, Harleen. But, listen, I’ll let you get some rest. We have a big day tomorrow. Ta-ta!” He stood up and left the room, slamming and locking the door behind him.

Harleen continued to lie on the floor completely defeated, delirious, and in pain. She began to sob as she realized that Joker wasn’t there to save her.

“ _Help..._ ” she said inaudibly to the empty room as her eyelids became heavy and she fell asleep once more.

*****


	2. Chapter 2

“Where is she?!?” Joker practically screamed at Frost as he paced in his office in the basement of the mansion. It was now after midnight and he had called upon Frost to “get here immediately” for an “emergency.”

“J, calm down,” Frost tried to soothe his business partner and friend. “She’s probably drinking with this Vanessa gal and they had a few too many. I really don’t think I needed to come over here. I was in the middle of a _This Is Us_ marathon... She’s probably going to waltz in here any moment.”

“God damn it, Frost!! If she comes _waltzing_ in here, I will literally chain her up in a room and keep her there forever,” Joker fumed. “I fucking _knew_ I shouldn’t have let her go tonight.”

“J, you can’t just keep her caged up. She’s her own woman, you know. She was before she met you and she still is now,” Frost reasoned with him.

Joker continued to pace back and forth and then forcefully plopped down in a leather chair.

“I know. I know! But I gave her strict instructions to keep me apprised of her whereabouts. She always does. She knows I’m... overbearing, but she knows it’s for good reason. There are hazards to this lifestyle,” Joker responded, slouched in his chair with his hand to his head rubbing his temples.

“Well, did she text you at all? Maybe we can retrace her steps. And what about her friend Vanessa?” Frost asked.

“She left here after three, picked up Vanessa on the West Side on Columbus and 96th. I should have gotten an exact address. God damn it!”

“Shh, calm down,” Frost tried to ease Joker’s temper. “Where did they go next?”

“They drove to mid-town. She said they were parking at a garage and eating at the Gramercy Tavern,” Joker looked at his phone. “That was at five. Then, at seven, she said they were grabbing taxi to 44th for the show at the Majestic. The show started at eight and lasts for almost three hours. That text at seven was the last one I got...” Joker forced a heavy sigh from his open mouth. “I was trying to just let it go. I was trying to just trust the fact that she would be okay...”

“I know that’s hard for you, J. I get it,” Frost said with sincerity, his tone of voice now soft. “She’ll be okay. I’m sure she’s okay.”

“We don’t know that. The fact that she is with me makes her a fucking target,” Joker reminded Frost.

“Yeah, but who knows she is with you? Hm? She sure hasn’t told her parents. For all they know, she is still traveling throughout Europe on the severance she got from Arkham. Other than Vanessa, does she share anything about her life with anyone?” Frost asked.

“A few people... She has her parents, her brother, Vanessa, some co-workers from Arkham, a few old college friends... She told me that she quit social media at the beginning of the year after she left Arkham. She’ll text people on occasion, but I don’t think she shares much with anyone. It’s not like she can... Of course, we have our crew. They know. And don’t forget that some guy attacked her a month back...” Joker thought for a moment. “The only other people who know are dead. She killed them, in fact. Except for that doctor. Dr. Evans.”

“The one who worked on my leg? The one we sent hush money to for his clinic?”

“That very one,” Joker grumbled.

“Okay, well, that’s one lead... if we even have to follow any leads. Remember,” Frost reminded him, “she could waltz in here at any moment.”

“Yes, I heard you the first fucking time... But it’s not like her to not respond to my texts or calls,” Joker said as he tried calling her for what must have been the millionth time with the call going directly to her voicemail.

“What about Vanessa? She’s her best friend. How does she explain your existence to her?” Frost questioned.

“As far as I know, she told her that she is dating someone in the mob,” Joker looked up from his phone and raised the muscle above his eye where an eyebrow should be.

“The mob??” Frost chortled. “Well, it is actually a pretty good cover. I guess we are a real crime family here, aren’t we?” Frost desperately tried to add some levity to the situation.

Since Harleen stepped into Joker’s life, she turned him completely around. He was less prone to violence and irrational outbursts, and he seemed to be oddly more considerate and caring, which was strange enough to Frost having spent ten years as the right-hand man to a boss who acted fairly unhinged and psychotic. Considering the situation, Frost realized that Joker was quite calm and was practicing a bit of restraint, though he knew it might not last long. Joker was not one to rest on his laurels and wait for the answer to come to him. He sought out his own answers, which usually meant heading directly into a dangerous situation.

“Look,” Frost said as he focused on unbending a paperclip, “let’s not jump the gun and harass the good doctor. How about we have our men go search for the car? They had to park it somewhere, right? Probably somewhere near Gramercy Tavern. Why don’t I gather some guys and send them out right away?”

Joker sighed heavily and shook his head. “Good, get as many men as you can. Tell them I’ll stuff their dick up their ass if they don’t.”

Frost picked up his phone and dialed. “Miles? I want to you get your gang together... Yes, Fritz, Butch, Junior, Chubs, just get them all. J has an assignment for you... Yes, I know it’s Saturday night... Well then you better sober the fuck up or boss will—and I quote—‘stuff your dick up your ass’ if you don’t get your shit together... All right... Where are you?... I don’t care if the other guys went home, have them come back to the club... Listen, this is important. I wouldn’t be calling you at one in the morning if this weren't important... Harleen has gone missing... Yes, she’s missing and I want you to scout for her car. It’s gonna be parked somewhere in the vicinity of Gramercy Tavern on East 20th Street. Take at least two of the SUVs... Split it up. You search on the west side of Park Avenue and have Fritz search the east side... We’re looking for the black Benz... Yeah, the S600... Okay, good. Just let me know when you have the guys gathered and out the door... All right.”

Joker sat in the soft leather seat with his jaw clenched and a scowl on his face. He hated this feeling of... was it anxiety? Remorse? Worry? Joker prided himself on his emotional distance. It’s what made him _The Joker_. But now he felt like he was growing soft. And it was all because of this woman who seemed to hypnotize and enrapture him so deeply that she began to poke holes through his thick armor of protection.

But she was worth it.

“J, it’s okay,” Frost started again, almost acting as a therapist. “I know this is hard for you. You have practically done a complete one-eighty in less than a year... bringing this woman into your home, into your life. And now you’re planning on spending the rest of your life with her. I’ve known you for ten years, man. I get it.”

Joker pulled his lips together and looked up at the ceiling. “I should be out there looking for her.”

“No, J, you gotta stay here in case she comes home. Maybe she had to take a cab. Maybe she’s at Vanessa’s. Maybe...”

“Yeah, maybe someone kidnapped her because they know who she is... who she is to me,” Joker spat back with defiance as he stood up. “She has been the only one keeping me from losing my fucking shit. If something happens to her, things will not be pretty.” He walked out the door and into the hallway.

“Where are you going?” Frost called out to him from behind his desk.

“To get a fucking drink!” Joker yelled back as he made his way to the large bar upstairs.

He knew Frost was only trying to help. He was a good employee... and an even better friend. Other than Harleen, he was his only true friend. Everyone else was just doing a job for which he paid them very well.

He poured himself a shot of vodka and swept his long strands of green hair out of his face. He knew something bad had happened. He knew he shouldn’t have let her go out. He should be holding Harleen in bed right now listening to her mumble things in her sleep.

He thought about the nights where he would wake up soaked in sweat after a terrifying nightmare only to look at the beautiful woman sleeping soundly next to him. Her lips plump and pink, her foot hooked over his ankle, her chest rising with each relaxing breath she took. She was his angel. She saved him when he thought he couldn’t possibly be saved—when he thought he didn’t _need_ to be saved. What she represented—innocence, purity, beauty, happiness—was exactly what he needed in his miserable life, and to have that stripped from him...

“She better fucking be all right,” he growled as he looked momentarily at his shot glass and then threw it against the marbled-tiled wall. “Or there will be hell to pay.”

*****

The homeless man stumbled through the darkened garage on 48th Street as he looked for loose change and anything else interesting on the pavement. He was heading to the top level where he kept a few of his sole belongings—a blanket, a pillow, a change of clothing, some pornographic magazines, and a few other items of more sentimental value.

It was hard being homeless in Gotham, but the former crane operator from Newark was resourceful. After succumbing to a mental breakdown, he decided to go off the grid. He always told himself that it was his own decision, but, in reality, he was forced to the street.

Unable to continue working, except for the odd job here and there, he couldn’t make ends meet. He couldn’t pay for his apartment or child support. A social worker from the psychiatric hospital he once stayed at would do her very best to hunt him down daily and give him his medication as part of a community treatment team, but he became harder and harder for her to locate, thus thrusting him even further into his downward spiral.

Parked up ahead near the corner, he saw a shiny black car—the kind he could only _dream_ about saving up for when he was working. Now, he simply had no dreams. He just lived day to day almost hoping for death. He sometimes had the urge to just jump off the top of the parking structure, but it was only six stories tall and he decided that if he were to leave his life, then he would do it with a bigger bang.

“Hm...” he said to himself as a sparkling silver chain on the ground caught his eye. He reached down to pick it up when he saw a tube of lipstick just feet away and then a black ball-point pen even farther.

He followed the trail of items and soon met with the fancy black Mercedes that was backed into its parking spot. Under the car on the passenger side was a dark gray purse, nearly the color of the dirty, oil-stained pavement upon which it rested, making it difficult to spot at first. As he approached the purse to search its contents, he noticed a small foot at the back of the car against the wall. The man ignored the purse and rounded the rear of the vehicle to see a beautiful, raven-haired woman sprawled on the ground.

“Ma’am? Ma’am, are you okay?” he asked in earnest as he rushed to her. He reached down and grabbed her bare calf, shaking her out of her stupor. “Ma’am?”

The woman opened her eyes slowly and groaned, propping herself up on one elbow and touching her cheek with her free hand.

“Wh-Where am I?” she asked.

“Ma’am, you’re in a parking garage. Are you okay?”

“I-I d-don’t think so. My face hurts. I feel like I’ve been punched or s-something. I feel d-drugged,” she responded with slurred speech.

“Let me help you sit up,” the man said. “My name’s Floyd, what’s yours?”

“I’m Vanessa,” she responded as he pulled her up to a seated position and rested her against the rear of the car.

“Well, Vanessa, I’m going to find someone who can help you. Do you have a cell phone? Maybe in your purse?” he stood up from his crouched position and walked around the car to grab the purse. He handed the leather bag to her, which she searched for her phone. She touched the pockets on her coat but came up empty.

“No phone... I don’t remember what happened to it... I don’t even remember how I got here, really,” she said as she looked the man with her light blue eyes.

A warm smile formed across Floyd’s kind face, his dark skin crinkling at the corners of his eyes. “Don’t you worry, okay? I’ll find someone to help you.”

Vanessa’s brow furrowed and she felt the sting of hot tears as the reality of her situation slowly began to dawn on her.

“Thank you, Floyd. Please hurry,” she said as she stifled a sob, reaching her hand out to touch his arm.

“You got it, Vanessa. Stay tight,” he responded as he stood up to walk away. “I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Vanessa shook her head slowly up and down as her lethargy began to set in again. _How did I get here?_ She asked herself over and over before closing her eyes and falling asleep.

*****

Less than fifteen minutes later, Floyd returned with two officers, sitting in the back of their vehicle as they drove through the near-empty garage to the fifth level.

“See the black Mercedes? She’s right there,” he informed the two officers as they pulled their car up, their red and blue lights flashing.

The three exited the vehicle while the officers approached the young woman who was resting against the vehicle. Floyd stood back as he listened to the officers talk to the dazed woman.

Vanessa did her best to answer their litany of questions: _Are you okay? Are you hurt? What is your name? Do you know where you are? Is this your vehicle? We’re going to get you to a hospital._

“Central, be advised, this is Officer Todd. We need a bus forthwith at Gotham Parking at One-Four-Zero West Four-Eight,” the young officer said into his radio which was attached to his shoulder. “We’re going to get you somewhere safe, okay?” he reassured Vanessa, whose tears were freely falling down her face. “JB,” he called to his partner, “can you run a check on the plate just in case?”

“Sure thing, partner,” Officer John Blake replied as he ventured to the front of the car and wrote down the plate number.

Officer Todd attempted to ask Vanessa additional questions, which she couldn’t comprehend in her delirious state. He instead turned to speak with Floyd, almost interrogating him as to why he would be in this parking structure at this time of night.

“It’s after two in the morning,” Todd said as he looked at his watch. “Where were you headed?”

“Look, man,” Floyd responded, “I ain’t got no job and no place to live, you feel me? Sometimes I come in here to get out of the weather.”

“I understand. And I won’t give you a citation, but consider this a warning. This is a privately-owned building. If you aren’t doing business here but you spend time on the premises or if you have any of your possessions stored here, that is considered to be criminal trespassing. You can be jailed for that, you feel _me_?” Todd said, shooting Floyd’s words back at him.

“Yeah, I feel you,” he replied quietly, clicking his tongue and looking out toward the street. Sirens from an ambulance started to grow louder and then turned off. Todd turned a page in his notepad and continued to take Floyd’s statement.

“JT,” Blake called to his partner as he stepped out of the black and white cruiser, “the car is registered to a ‘Joseph Carr Wildlife Sanctuary’ up in Rye.”

Todd pursed his lips and turned to Vanessa, whose eyes were closed. “Vanessa, are you affiliated with the Joseph Carr Wildlife Santuary?” he asked her. She did not answer. “Vanessa?”

“H-Har... leen... I... Har...,” she responded sluggishly, her lips were dry and stuck to each other.

“Harleen? Who’s Harleen?” the officer asked her.

At that moment, an ambulance came to a stop near the group with another police car in tow, their bright lights flashing, casting an alternating blue and red glow on the men’s faces as they looked toward the new arrivals. The EMTs quickly pulled out a gurney and carefully lifted Vanessa onto it while Officer Todd picked up her bag.

“I found these, too,” Floyd said as he handed the officer the necklace, lipstick, and pen that he had found.

“Thank you, sir. And, please, take care of yourself. You’re a good man for calling us here,” Todd nodded to him in appreciation.

“Thanks,” Floyd responded. “Where are they taking her?”

“Looks like they’ll take her to GCH. Don’t worry, she’ll be in good hands,” he said as he walked away. The group got into their respective vehicles and left as Floyd looked on.

Floyd gazed down at the ground again where Vanessa had been seated and saw something sparkling near the far tire. He walked closer and picked up what must have been a very expensive heart-shaped pendant inlaid with diamonds on a broken silver chain. “Damn,” he said after whistling aloud as he marveled at its brilliance. Flipping it over, he read the engraving: _Happy Birthday, Love You Always, Harleen._

“Damn, this girl has got some friends in high places...” he spoke to himself realizing that the necklace was probably more than his yearly salary—when he had a salary, that is.

After checking around the rest of the car, Floyd entered the stairwell nearby and headed one flight up to the top floor, holding tightly onto the necklace. He found his hidden garbage bag and removed his blanket. Sitting down on the pavement, he leaned back against the low wall behind him and tilted his eyes up to the sky as he draped the blanket over his legs. As the cold autumn air stung his eyes, he thought about pawning the diamond necklace.

 _Maybe I can get some decent money for it,_ he thought, watching it twinkle in his rough hands under the ceaseless lights of the city. _Maybe I could get a place for myself, for my girl..._

He thought about his little girl, Zoe, and how he hadn’t been able to fulfill his duties as a father over the past year or two. He frowned with disappointment in himself. _She’ll never want me back in her life,_ he conceded to himself in a resigned defeat.

He decided at that point that he needed to return the necklace to Vanessa. He couldn’t keep it or pawn it—not something as special as that—and he didn’t want the money. He was sure that she would come back to the car at some point soon, and he would be there to return it to her.

*****


	3. Chapter 3

“Good morning, biscuit,” the honey-laden voice materialized just feet away from Harleen’s face, the terrible orange light once again spilling into the room. “Is it biscuit? Or maybe darling? How about _kitten_?”

Harleen squinted her eyes as she distorted her face into a painful grimace—caused by a combination of her headache, a throbbing pain in her neck, the tightness from her bound ankles and wrists, and the awful fiery persimmon light from the outside hallway. Her captor crouched near her, examining her as if she were an alien creature that he could not comprehend.

“Oh, how about _peaches_?” the man finally decided. “I know how Jack _loved_ to use pet names for his girl back in the day. You know, just before I raped and stabbed and killed her.”

“ _Shut... up..._ ” Harleen managed to spit out.

Grabbing her violently by the jaw, he held her face in place and quickly pulled himself so his nose nearly touched hers.

“Don’t _ever_ tell me to shut up,” he said, staring directly into her eyes. “Each time you defy me, I _defile_ you.”

And, with that, he kissed her deeply on the lips, forcing a stubby tongue into her unwilling mouth. He pulled away and Harleen coughed and gagged, nearly throwing up on the floor.

“ _Why... Nick..._ ” Harleen asked, her voice weak and groggy.

“All in good time, peaches,” Nick responded. “You are a big part of my plan...”

“W-What plan?” Harleen demanded.

“Oh, you’ll see, just you wait.” Nick smiled as he pulled out a syringe and a vial from his pocket. Carefully stabbing the vial with the needle, he drew all of the clear liquid into it. “You, my dear, are going to be my little guinea pig, just like Jackie was so long ago.” He grabbed Harleen’s reluctant arm as she did her best to resist.

“Ow, stop, please!” Harleen cried out as she twisted her body to avoid the needle. Nick pushed her face into the ground, putting his knee into her back to hold her in place.

“Just stay real still, this won’t hurt a bit,” Nick promised as he plunged the needle into the back of her upper arm. The sting of the needle’s bite was immediate and was felt all the way down to her hand and up to her shoulder.

“Fuck... you...” Harleen gurgled as her lips pressed against the cold tile floor.

“Now, sweetie, is this any way to treat an old friend of your betrothed?” He asked, grabbing what appeared to be a long black cane from the ground as he stood up with ease. “And, by the way, don’t even bother trying to leave. This place is like Fort Knox. No windows... I got locks on the outside of the door... There is no way out, baby doll. And no one can hear you either. No one is around. No one but you and the rats.”

Harleen’s heart sunk.

“So don’t let them nibble on you. I’ll be back in a while,” he informed her as he turned and walked out the door toward the orange light with a gait that was just slightly off-kilter. He pulled the door shut and Harleen heard several locks turn into place.

 _Oh my god. Where am I? Where’s J?_ Harleen panicked, not fully grasping where she was or what had happened. She attempted to sit up and fell back down onto her shoulder. She mustered all of her strength and was finally able to lift herself off of the ground and look around the dark room. Her eyes already adjusting to the darkness, she could make out some shapes with the help of the orange light from beneath the door. The room was rectangular and long with a standing shower to her left, a sink and toilet to her right, and the door in front of her. She had no idea what time of day it was as there was no view to the outside world.

She looked at the toilet and then back at her bound hands and feet. “A lot of good that’s gonna do me,” she said to herself out loud. She carefully shuffled her butt closer to the wall behind her where she leaned up against the cracked subway tile.

Her stomach growled and she knew it had to be early morning. Suddenly, she felt the urge to use the toilet. After a few minutes of leaning against the wall and getting her bearings, she crawled on her hands and knees to the door, pounding it with both fists. Harleen soon heard the mechanism unlock on the door as she moved out of the way.

“What... do... you... _want_?” Nick asked, clearly annoyed.

“I need to pee and it’s kind of hard to do that with my hands like this...” she said, holding up her bound wrists.

Nick stared at her wrists and then at the commode as if suddenly realizing that things could get messy if he didn’t comply with her wishes. “Fine,” he conceded, pulling a Swiss Army knife out of his shirt pocket and slicing the tape on her hands and feet.

“Thank y-you,” Harleen said. “I’m so hungry, are you planning on feeding me?”

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ... Now you need _food_. I don’t know how Jack puts up with you—oh, I’m sorry, should I call him _The Joker_? Hm, peaches?”

Harleen stared at his dark brown leather loafers from her vantage point on the ground as she removed the tape from her body. She couldn’t bring herself to look at his face. She simultaneously wanted to throw up _and_ rip the skin from his body. _I killed your father,_ she thought to herself. _I can kill you, too._

She forced her eyes to travel up his jeans to his blue plaid button-up shirt to finally view the scowl on his face. If she didn’t know he was crazy, she would have thought he was a handsome man any day of the week.

Nick stared down at the woman below him. _Weak,_ he thought to himself. _So weak. Just like Jack._ She looked pitiful—her skin and dress covered in filth, her hair disheveled, and her neck red. He lifted a foot and kicked her in the chest, effectively moving her away from the door, which he pulled toward himself and twisted the locks shut.

Unsure when Nick would return, Harleen used the toilet and the small amount of toilet paper that was left on a nearby roll. To her great relief, the toilet flushed, which meant she would have running water in some form. Again to her relief, she found that the sink worked and she washed her hands. She felt around for anything else that she could use—soap, paper towels, a mirror—but found nothing other than an empty towel dispenser on the wall. Her eyes adjusting to the darkness again, she walked toward the door and found the light switch on the wall. She flicked it on and off to no avail. No light would illuminate her dire situation.

She put her head against the door and soon heard the deadbolt open. Harleen backed away to the opposite wall uncertain of what Nick would bring—maybe a gun, maybe a fist, maybe his boot again. Unable to continue standing, she slid down the wall behind her and came to rest on the floor.

“Good girl, you are learning,” he told her as he stood in the doorway with a box under his arm. “Don’t defy me. I’m sure Jackie told you about our little business partnership, right? He was a shrewd businessman, believe me. And very talented with chemicals. But not as talented as I am... I just gave you a toxin for which only _I_ have the antidote. I have to administer it to you within fifteen hours or so before the toxin really starts to affect you. So, when I come in this room, it is in your best interest to _not_ do me any harm.”

“Wait... You’re injecting me with a toxin only to give me an antidote fifteen hours later?” Harleen asked, sounding bewildered, her voice growing stronger. “What is this—a fucking comic book? What’s to keep me from hurting you _after_ I get the antidote?”

Nick chuckled. “Oh, peaches, you see, the antidote that I give you will put you right to sleep. Then, before you wake up, I will inject you with the toxin again. Then I’ll give you the antidote—and hopefully not a moment too late for your sake. It’s just an awful, awful cycle and I’m afraid that there is just no breaking it. _I told you_ that you’re going to be my guinea pig.” He sneered at her with the same look that she had seen from his father many times before. Looking down at the box he had in his arm, he made his announcement: “Here is some food and some toilet paper. You have water. Enjoy!”

He threw the box into the middle of the room with a loud slap followed by a slam of the door. Alone again, she examined the box with her hands and found the toilet paper as well as a large plastic container of pretzels. Opening the lid, she pulled out a slightly stale pretzel—the best tasting pretzel she had ever eaten—and leaned against the wall.

 _This must be what J must have felt like in solitary,_ she thought to herself. She leaned back against the wall again and began to cry.

*****

Joker sat in his rear office at his club and drummed his fingers on his desk. It was now eight in the morning and his men still had not located the vehicle.

“I’m sorry, Boss,” Fritz said in a thick Gotham accent, “but we haven’t turned up anything.”

“Listen,” Joker barked through the phone, “if you _don’t_ find the car, _you_ won’t ‘turn up.’ Get it?”

“Got it, boss.”

“I want you to expand your search. Start checking all of the parking garages close to the theater on 44th Street... I don’t care how many there are, check every god damn last one of them!” Joker screamed.

“Yes, sir,” Fritz responded, always a loyal disciple of the Joker. Most of his men were fiercely loyal, especially now that he had begun to divest his interests and free up some cash, which he promised to his men—and made good on over the past several months. His inner circle of men began to rake in tons of cash, some buying expensive real estate and vehicles or investing it on their own.

Joker ended the call and dropped the phone on his desk with a huff as he sat with his forehead in his hand. There was something clearly wrong. Harleen was gone and it was not like her to forget to check in with him. He wondered if maybe she left him; she had left him before. _There’s no way she would leave me. She loves me,_ he reassured himself.

He thought about the time that had passed since he asked her to marry him. He still almost couldn’t believe that he asked her—and that she had _agreed_. He took ten years to build his empire. Ten years with no weakness. Ten years building capital that rivaled the wealthiest business magnates in Gotham—possibly in the country. Ten years building an image. And this beautiful, intelligent woman somehow burrowed her way into his heart—and he allowed it.

In all of the world, she was his one and only weakness. Before meeting her, he didn’t care if he lived or if he died. Life was a game and he was out to win by taking what he wanted when he wanted it. His men were scared of him and the women just wanted to share the bed with him.

Before Harleen, he would spend his evenings conducting business deals out of his club, killing anyone who crossed him, and enjoying hedonistic pleasures that were offered up so promptly by virtually every woman in his orbit. To buy their silence, he would allow them to put their lips on his cock and suck until he couldn’t breathe—the women seemed to be desperate to please him and be a part of his empire. But they were just a tool to provide him with pleasure and meant nothing more. He knew that women only complicated things; he knew women were a source of weakness and he had to remain strong. He was weak for a woman once, and it ended in her violent death and the loss of a promised child. _Never again_ , he had vowed to himself.

That is... until he met Harleen. She captivated him with her intelligence, her ability to see right through him, her compassion, and, not to mention, her gorgeous body. He thought of how they fit together so perfectly—physically and figuratively. She balanced his anger, his hotheadedness, his reckless spontaneity... And he taught her to take chances, to loosen up... to live.

She saved his life by helping him to escape from Arkham and she saved his life when a gun was literally pointed at his head, but, most of all, she saved him from certain self-destruction. Though he vowed to never love a woman again, he could not help but _feel_ love for her—an emotion he had suppressed so long ago that it was almost foreign to him. The lust he felt for his former doctor transformed into love as he slowly realized that she accepted him for who he was—past and present. She was his life now.

Though he had operated his empire for over a decade, it began to lack the allure it had when he first started out. There was only so much money to make or take before the game became rigged in his favor. He wanted a challenge—and if that meant downsizing, then so be it. The game wasn’t worth playing when there was no fight in his opponents, like a boxer who wins every match because he was leaps and bounds better than anyone he faced off with.

He was ready for a new chapter in his life. He wanted to travel the world with Harleen, eat at the finest restaurants, and do something thrilling like skydiving or hang-gliding to replace the high he experienced when robbing a bank.

But he knew he would grow bored of even this after a while. Perhaps he would pursue his interest in photography. Perhaps he would bring an heir into the world and train him to become a cunning businessman. After a lot of thought, he knew he could never think of bringing a child into his life. It was too dangerous and he believed he would be a terrible father. _I am The Joker, after all,_ he thought, and the child would just be yet another weakness.

But right now, none of his plans mattered because the woman he loved was missing.

*****


	4. Chapter 4

Floyd did his best to appear nonchalant in the parking garage as he trekked up and down the stairwell between the fifth and sixth levels. It was a dark and rainy Sunday morning and, luckily, the traffic in the garage was very slow as he watched over the black Mercedes that he believed belonged to Vanessa. He stood at the entrance to the stairwell looking at the vehicle and plunged his hand into his pants pocket to verify that the necklace still existed. He pulled it out and gently traced his fingers around the heart thinking about what a piece of jewelry like this could buy him and his daughter.

The sound of a black Lexus barreling up the ramp pulled him out of his reverie. The car slammed on its brakes in front of the Mercedes and two men jumped out with the passenger on a cell phone talking to someone.

“Yeah, Frost. I think we found it,” the man said, his eyes pink from an apparent lack of sleep. “We’re at 140 West 48th. Yeah... Uh, level five.” The men circled the vehicle, both of them looking inside. “No, she’s not here. Okay, will do.” He hung up the phone and dialed another number. “Hey, Fritz, we found it,” he stated into his phone and began to describe his location.

Floyd peeked around the corner and watched the men circle the car like a pack of hyenas.

“J is gonna be so pissed,” he heard the driver say. “This is the second time this year his girl has been kidnapped. If we don’t find her, we are fucking screwed.” They both lit up cigarettes as they stood at the back of the vehicle looking down the street from their vantage point on the fifth floor of the structure.

 _Kidnapped?_ Floyd asked himself.  

“Here they are,” the driver stated as a BMW pulled up in the darkened garage and pulled in near the Mercedes.

Two men jumped out of the BMW and quickly made their way to the vehicle. Pulling up his dark aviator frames, the driver glared at the men with beady eyes. “Butch, Chubs, did you check in the trunk? In the garage? In the stairwell? Or are you just taking a motherfucking smoke break?”

“Oh, uh, sorry Miles,” the fatter man of the two responded as he flicked his unfinished cigarette over the ledge. He opened the unlocked door of the Mercedes and pressed the button to release the trunk. The four men gathered around as the trunk opened to reveal nothing.

“Chubs, you check downstairs. Butch, you’re upstairs,” Miles barked at the two men as Floyd turned to make his escape upstairs but stopped. He wasn’t going to run from these people. He turned around and waited momentarily for the two men to approach.

Chubs rounded the corner first and received Floyd’s punch causing him to fall to the floor. Floyd then quickly reached into Butch’s holster and pulled out his gun while kicking him in the chest. He impressively fired shots at three separate overhead lights without even looking, which made the garage even darker on the cold and wet morning. Both Miles and Fritz drew their guns and carefully approached the man who was somewhat hidden by the entrance to the stairwell.

“You think it’s that bat dude?” Fritz whispered to Miles as they held the darkened figure in their sights.

“No, the bat guy doesn’t use guns,” Miles responded, keeping his eyes trained on the man.

“Hey, pal...” Fritz said. “Tell me what you’re doing here and we won’t blow your brains out.”

Chubs groaned and pulled out his weapon, focusing it on the man in black.

“Okay, okay,” Floyd responded as he knew he was outnumbered.

“Step out away from the door,” Miles commanded, “and put the gun down.”

Floyd put his hands up in the air and stepped out into clear view of the men with the gun.

“On your fucking knees, asshole,” Miles yelled again, his white teeth in contrast with his dark skin. “Put the fucking gun down now.”

Floyd complied with the demand as the men drew closer, knowing that he could be relieved from the pain of his life. Miles stepped up to him and placed the end of his weapon on his forehead.

“What did you do to the girl?” Miles asked.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Floyd’s eyes flashed with bewilderment. “I didn’t touch any girl.” He thought about how he heard them say she was kidnapped. “You care about the girl?”

“Yes, our boss cares about _the girl_. What do you know about it? Tell me or your brains are going to be all over these walls,” Miles said ominously as he pushed the gun harder into his skin.

“Look, I don’t care if I live or die, man. Do what you want,” Floyd said dismissively. He thought about the beautiful woman on the ground, how her huge blue eyes were desperate for help, how he promised himself that he would return her necklace. He thought about how defenseless she was and he debated sharing this information with these unknown men who could merely be there to harm her.

“Butch, check his pockets. Let’s see who this fucker is,” Miles said. Butch began to pat him down looking for any additional weapons, of which he found none.

“Okay, brother, look, you wanna know what I know? I’ll tell you if you help me,” Floyd responded, thinking about how the man would most likely find and take Vanessa’s necklace. It was his only connection to someone real—someone he helped.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to bargain, _brother,_ ” Miles chuckled as he looked over at Fritz whose face was pallid and serious, his gun trained between Floyd’s eyes. Miles knew he couldn’t kill the man without him giving up what he knows; he knew Joker would have his head for it. “Okay, maybe we help you out, buy you a meal. I don’t give a shit. Just tell me where the girl is.”

Floyd looked up at the man and back down to the pavement. “I found her sometime after midnight lying behind the car. All of her stuff was on the ground and she said that she felt woozy and her face hurt like she was punched. I got the cops—that is exactly what I did. I got the cops and they took her to GCH. That’s what I know.”

Fritz pulled out his phone and dialed. “J, yeah. She’s at GCH. Some guy found her in a garage and the cops came and took her. Yeah, okay,” he said as he hung up. “J’s gonna meet us there,” he announced to the group. “He’ll have Frost. You know they’re probably gonna go in guns blazin’ and he wants us to set a perimeter.”

“Good,” Miles responded, clearly the leader of the gang. “We’ll take our new friend with us, too. How does that sound?” He turned to look at Floyd. “You say you don’t care if you live or die and then you ask for our help. Sounds like you owe us for sparing your life.” He reached his hand out to help Floyd up. “This is the least you could do. You seem to be pretty good with a gun—maybe we could use a guy like you... It would be... _mutually beneficial._ ”

“Fine,” Floyd said, the flatness in his voice betrayed the twinge of excitement that he felt for a change. “Let me get my bag upstairs. I can’t leave it here.”

“If you’re not back in thirty seconds, we leave without you,” Miles replied.

Thirty seconds later, Floyd was sitting in the backseat of the BMW on his way to see Vanessa at the hospital, give her necklace back to her, and see where the rest of the day took him.

*****

Joker ended the call from Fritz and jumped from his desk, motioning to Frost.

“Let’s go,” Joker said as Frost and a few other men followed him to the gated lot behind the club where their black SUVs waited for them. “You’re with me, Frost. She’s at GCH. I’ll drive,” he stated as the men approached the vehicles.

“Just don’t call the attention of the police this time, J,” Frost said as Joker shot a reproving glance at him.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Joker said as he roared out of the lot in the early morning rain with two other vehicles in tow.

The drive was quick as Joker knew exactly where to go—not to mention that he was aided by Frost and his traffic light preemption device, which conveniently changed traffic lights from red to green at the push of a button. _Just like fire trucks and ambulances have,_ Frost explained to Joker many years ago.

As Joker darted in and out of traffic along the riverside highway, he thought of his dear Harleen lying in a hospital bed with who knows what injuries. He cursed himself silently for not being there with her the night before—for not protecting her as he promised he would do. His mind wandered to their time spent during the summer at his indoor firing range.

“That was not bad at all,” he had told her during one session as he pulled the paper target in toward himself. “Look at that. You fired fifteen shots in the clip and almost all of them were in the target area. Eleven... That’s not too bad.”

Harleen giggled like a schoolgirl. “You really think so, J?” she asked. “It’s ‘cause I have such a good teacher.” She bit her lower lip and fluttered her eyelashes—something she knew he couldn’t resist.

“Is that so?” he asked seductively as he pushed her against the wall that separated the range stalls. “You might need to stay extra after class since you missed a few, though,” he said before kissing her glossed lips. Pressing his pelvis into hers, he could hear her exhale sharply with each thrust.

“Oh, Mr. Joker,” she said breathlessly. “I’ve been such a naughty student. There must be something I can do to make up for it.” Her hands felt along his perfectly formed pecs as she began to nibble and then suck on his ear, causing his body to tingle all over. She slowly and intentionally moved her hands down his hard abs to his crotch where she could feel him harden and pulsate in her palm. She loved that she turned him on, that she still had this power over him.

“Oh, doll,” he practically drooled in her ear as he pushed himself into her hand even harder while she continued to suck on his earlobe. Harleen pulled away to undo his belt and pants, causing them to fall to the floor. She reached into the waistband of his boxers and carefully pushed them down below his erect cock.

“Change the magazine,” she whispered sensually in his ear as she began to stroke the length of his hard shaft with her delicate hands.

Joker reached to the ledge and changed out the clip of the gun while Harleen continued to slide his most sensitive body part through her fingers.

“I want you to shoot as you cum in my mouth,” she stated, “and we’ll see how many you get in the target. If you get more than I did, I’ll let you do whatever you want to me. If you don’t, then I get to do whatever I want...” She reached up to place the protectors back over his ears. “Oh, and one more thing,” she said as she lifted up the earmuff. “You have to shoot left-handed.”

An interminable smirk formed across Joker's face as he imagined Harleen writhing and grinding against a stripper pole in his booth at the club. He had never asked her to dance on a pole—he thought it was too base for a refined woman like his Doctor Quinzel—but he had always longed to watch her do it.

Soon he felt the warm and familiar feeling of Harleen’s lips surrounding his cock. She was so good at sucking him off and she knew the right places to focus on. He looked down at his blonde beauty wearing a white tank top and tiny red shorts. Her hair was held behind her ears by the headband of the protectors as it flowed in long, flaxen waves past her shoulders. She used her left hand to hold onto the back of his thigh while her right one skillfully pumped the base of his shaft as she sucked with her beautiful mouth.

Harleen loved everything about Joker, especially his body. She paused from sucking to lightly lick around the edges of his head as she gazed up at the man staring down at her. His lustful bedroom eyes were enough to set her body ablaze as she imagined his face between her legs licking and sucking on her clit as he had done so many times before. Some days she still couldn’t believe that she was with Joker— _The Joker._ The Terror of Gotham City. One of the most feared men in the world. In a way, she felt honored that he opened his life and his heart to her. She felt special.

Joker placed his right hand on the back of her head as she began to twist her mouth around his cock in the most pleasurable way. He tilted his head back, his jaw clenched, and looked at the ceiling of the dark room. He was so close to letting himself go in her mouth when he felt her tap him on the back of the leg. Looking down, he saw Harleen use her eyes to direct him to fire his weapon when he was ready.

He pulled the gun up with his left hand to aim at the target when he felt himself reach the point of no return. He could no longer withstand the immense pleasure from Harleen’s warm mouth and her slippery, swirling tongue. He used his right hand to push her head hard onto his dick as he simultaneously unloaded both weapons—one into her mouth and the other onto the target. He clicked far beyond fifteen rounds as his orgasm continued much longer than he had expected, causing him to nearly lose his balance. He removed the protectors from his ears and looked down at Harleen as she sucked every last drop of fluid from his tip.

Harleen stood up and pressed the button on the wall to retrieve the target. “You have... eleven! We’re equal. Hm... I didn’t have _that_ contingency worked out,” she said as she looked at Joker, his eyes dark with lust.

“I guess you’ll just have to give me what I want and I’ll have to give you what you want—a compromise,” he said as he moved toward her and kissed her, pushing her body against the wall again.

“I like that idea,” Harleen responded as she returned his kiss, the salty taste of his juices still on her tongue. “I like that a lot.”

*****

Suddenly, Joker was pulled from his memory by Frost grabbing the steering wheel.

“Turn here, J! This is our exit! Where are you—in la la land?” he asked frustratedly. “Pull up right here,” Frost commanded, “and _wait_ for me. Don’t get out of the vehicle. I’ll go get her and bring her out, okay?”

Joker’s jaw muscles flexed and his veins pulsed as he shook his head up and down. He knew he couldn’t go in with his conspicuous green locks and tattooed face—the authorities would be called immediately.

“Here, J. Put this on,” Frost said as he opened the glove box and pulled out a ski mask. “At least cover up the hair as you sit and wait... we don’t want _any_ attention.”

Frost quickly removed the guns from both his chest and ankle holsters before jumping out of the SUV and disappearing into the main doors of the hospital.

 _He better have Harleen with him,_ Joker thought to himself. His memory of their intimate time together had awakened deliciously sexual thoughts within him. As he waited, he could only think of the things he would do to Harleen once he had her in his bed again.

*****


	5. Chapter 5

“Wake up, peaches!” Nick yelled as he entered the small room, the same orange bulb shining the same orange light from behind him in the hallway. “You know, I should really give you that antidote soon... It’s been maybe ten hours, but we do still have plenty of time.”

“What do you want?” Harleen asked gruffly as she sat leaning against the wall—barely having slept at all over the past few hours.

“I told you, snookums. You’re a big part of my plan. You have the starring role! Well, I mean, by ‘starring role’ I mean ‘bait.’ You see, my dear, dear Harleen, you are garbage to me. Trash. Nothing... You are simply the lure for the bigger fish. It’s Jackie that I want,” Nick concluded as he approached Harleen with two pairs of handcuffs.

Harleen looked at the open door to the hallway and summoned her strength. She was delirious but felt like she was coming out of a fog. She knew she had to take control. As Nick grabbed for her wrists, she in turn grabbed onto his. Using his body for support, she swung her leg around and kicked him in the back, causing him to momentarily arch backward in pain.

“You fucking cunt! You fucking _cunt!_ ” Nick screamed out before immediately turning to grab Harleen by the legs, bringing her crashing to the floor just feet away from the doorway to freedom. Harleen thrashed her body on the dirty floor in her attempts to flee his grip as he crawled up her, his body so heavy on hers that she could not breathe. Slowly, he sat up while Harleen finally sucked oxygen into her lungs with a sharp inhale.

She recognized his words: _You fucking cunt!_ She knew he was the man who had assaulted her in the alleyway. _Why do these things happen to me?_ But she already knew the answer—she knew that as long as she was part of Joker’s life, then she was always at risk.

“What the fuck did I tell you? You little bitch,” he seethed at her as he grabbed her wrists and cuffed them together. “Don’t defy me. You think this is bad? Oh... Oh, I can make it a lot worse.” Then, as an evil smirk grew on his face, he leaned in and said, “I can fuck you so hard that you’ll beg me to stop. I’ll fuck you in every hole. I’ll make new holes and fuck them. I don’t play around, girl.”

Harleen felt the energy to fight escape from her body. She felt overpowered and defeated. Even though she had desperately wanted to push him away, she could not prevent him from cuffing her ankles together. She had no other choice.

Nick pushed himself off of her legs and stood up, Harleen’s kick to his once-injured back having very little effect on him. The subsiding pain was a reminder to him of his encounter with the Joker all of those years ago—the day that his suspicions were confirmed. His old buddy Jack didn’t actually die; he rose like a dark Phoenix from the ashes as the psychotic criminal. It was the day Joker broke Nick’s back and cut off the tip of his tongue.

Lucky for Nick, he had one of the best surgeons and physical therapists for his back and he was still able to function with part of his tongue missing. Nick made it his personal vendetta during his almost seven years in prison to become the strongest man in the yard. He quickly moved from relying completely on his wheelchair to only occasionally needing a cane for assistance to not needing the cane at all. He was preparing for this eventuality, for payback. And it would be sweet. The moment Nick realized that his old friend Jack had taken a new lover—a fiancée, even—he knew just the right buttons to push.

“C’mon, peaches, we have plans today. Get up,” he commanded as he kicked her in the side.

Harleen turned the opposite direction and coughed, the saliva thick in her throat.

“C’mon, move it!” his roar filled the room. Harleen stood up slowly from her hands and knees as Nick walked out the door into the orange hallway. He returned with an old leather wheelchair.

“Turn around and sit down,” he ordered her, to which she complied. He then unhooked a chain and fed it through the arms of the chair and in front of her abdomen before hooking the two ends together with a padlock. “Good. Now we can get started.”

Nick pushed Harleen out into the hallway illuminated by a series of intense orange lights, which only aided in somehow continuing to crush her spirit. Their harsh glow seemed to be amplified a million times, making it difficult to see and comprehend her surroundings. Finally, he wheeled her out into a larger room, its walls covered in a thick dark plastic that prevented any introduction of light from the outside world. The lighting was cooler in temperature, much to the relief of Harleen—that is until Nick placed her next to a table and pulled a utility lamp to meet her face. The hard light seemed to burn through her eyelids as she had grown accustomed to the darkness of her room.

“Here, gimme your arm,” Nick said as he pulled her cuffs toward him and placed her extended left arm on the chair’s armrest. He then used a zip tie to affix her wrist to the chair and then proceeded to grab a syringe on the table. Unable to entirely see what he was doing, Harleen felt the pinch of a needle entering her vein on the inside of her arm.

“This is one of my experimental drugs, you see. It’s been, oh, ten years since I’ve made anything like this, but I never stopped reading and staying on top of research.” He stood up and placed his hands on his hips. “You know, I made Jack into what he is today. That was my chemical he fell into. Surely he told you that, right?”

Harleen made no indication that she had heard him.

“He _told_ you that, _right_?” Nick leaned in again to scream the question, spit from his mouth landing on her face.

“Y-yes...” Harleen managed to say.

“Good. So, you know, I’m a _genius_ when it comes to these chemicals. Jack was good, but not _that_ good,” he elucidated. “He’s such a moron... He thinks he fell into the vat of chemicals and then, months later, he starts to transform. You know, the pale skin, the lack of body hair, the green head hair. What an _idiot_! It doesn’t work that way! You wanna know how I did it?” he asked, looking at Harleen again.

Harleen was still delirious as she heard the man in front of her speak his words full of vitriol. She made no movement other than blinking her eyes.

“I _said..._ Do... you... want... to... know... how... I... did... it? Hm? Do you want to know how I changed Jack into your precious Joker?” he asked, his hands grabbing her knees as he leaned into her seated body.

“Yes... Yes, of course...” Harleen stated. She felt tired, but she also wanted to know the answer—she wanted to know why Joker was the way he was. Men like Nick were braggarts by nature and he was certain to tell her whether she wanted to hear it or not.

Nick stood up and stared down at the woman restrained in the chair and thought for a moment.

“No,” he stated flatly. “No... I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of knowing. Not yet, you fucking bitch. You’ll realize it all in good time, won’t you?”

He huffed as he pulled a cart of medical instruments in front of Harleen and began to arrange them. “What’s that, Jackie? You... You think I should tell her?”

Harleen watched as the man walked over to a table and grabbed a picture frame. As he returned to her, he held it up and began talking to the image.

“Oh, Jackie. You are clueless. You were so tied up in your grief over _Jessica_ that you never even realized what I was doing for that whole year. We could have commanded a billion-dollar business using my chemicals!” He yelled at the image and threw it down onto the table next to Harleen. It was a photo of two handsome men in their mid-20s sitting at a table next to an in-ground pool. They were smiling and holding bottles of beer. It was Nick and Jack and they looked happy.

Nick was quiet for a moment as he wiped down some of the tools on the tray—some were scalpels, some looked like needles, but they all looked frightening. He then pulled a large crate on wheels in front of Harleen and removed the cover. On it was a cage with several colorful birds inside—red, blue, yellow, and white.

“Wh—What are you going to do with those?” Harleen asked, her throat dryer than it had ever been.

“Aw, Harleen... do you have a love for little animals? Just like Jackie?” he asked gleefully. “It’s going to be such a shame for me to kill them right in front of your eyes... Let’s start with the yellow one! Birds are real fuckers, you know!”

Harleen watched in horror as the man reached in and grabbed the small yellow bird—a kind of finch as she could tell by its thick beak. It chirped and squirmed in his hand as he used the tip of his fingers to gently pet its head. Then, without warning, he banged the animal on the edge of the table near the picture frame, breaking its neck and instantly killing it.

Harleen protested as she watched Nick have far too much fun striking the bird on the tabletop in an overly-dramatic fashion until its head had nearly severed itself from the rest of its body. He then clipped some of its feathers onto the tray and then tossed the bird into an open garbage can.

“You... killed the bird just so you could get its feathers? You were already holding it in your hand! Just clip the feathers and let it go!” Harleen practically screamed at the madman in front of her, her voice hoarse.

Nick practically giggled at her words. “Oh, Harleen, ever the bleeding heart... just like Jackie.”

He continued with his heartless endeavor of removing birds from the cage, killing them in front of Harleen by smashing them on the table or simply clipping off an entire wing and then throwing them into the trash bin still alive and screaming. She watched as he carefully put the separate clippings of feathers into jars of liquid in front of her. He held them up to the light as the screeching of the birds persisted from the garbage can. Harleen winced as tears stung her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

“Anyway,” he continued after a few minutes of examining his handiwork, “I’m hoping I can recreate my original concoction in some fashion—and you, Harleen, are my guinea pig!”

Nick’s low chuckle turned into a full on cackle as he looked at the exhausted woman sitting in the wheelchair before him.

“ _My guinea piiiiiiiig_!” he sang out to her. Harleen closed her heavy eyes and could not help but fall asleep.

*****

Frost reached the reception of the very busy emergency room at Gotham City Hospital and straightened his tie. Showing his trademark sweet smile with his eyes crinkled at the corners, he approached the woman working at the desk.

“Hi there,” he began, “my girlfriend was brought in last night, like maybe nine hours ago. Can you direct me to her room?”

“What’s the name?” the woman behind the desk asked flatly.

“Should be under Harleen Quinzel,” he stated, while also providing the spelling of her name. The receptionist looked up at him as if he had said something suspicious.

“We don’t have anyone under that name here,” she said after typing it into her system. She seemed to sneer in annoyance as she took a sip from her coffee mug which was printed with the words: _Life’s A Bitch, Then You Turn 40._

“Oh, I see,” Frost replied, uncertain as to what name she would have used.

Suddenly, his heart skipped a beat and the blood drained from his face. _J is gonna be so pissed off,_ he thought to himself.

“You know, she might have used the name ‘Vanessa.’ Do you have anyone named Vanessa from early this morning?”

“Let’s see... Yes, we do,” the woman said, eyeing up Frost above her glasses as they rested halfway down her nose. “What’s the last name?”

“I honestly don’t know... which name she would have used,” he said as he leaned in closer to whisper. “She uses a few different names because of a previous boyfriend. She can’t risk it sometimes,” he explained. He pulled his lips into a taut frown and gave his best effort to look sorrowful.

The woman sighed and glanced quickly toward her co-worker who was returning to her seat behind the counter before looking back at Frost. He was well-dressed in a suit and tie, his facial hair was well-kept, and he looked like a nice guy.

“All right, she’s in bed 23. Head in through these doors, take the first left, and then follow the signs,” she chewed her gum with her mouth open as she gave him directions and then leaned back to press a button on the wall to automatically open the doors.

“Thanks ma’am,” Frost said graciously as he hurried through the doors, the sound of police radios squawking behind him.

Frost made his way through the labyrinth of the emergency room to find bed 23. In it was a beautiful woman with long, nearly black hair, pale skin, and large blue eyes. She was hooked up to a monitor as she watched the mid-morning news.

“Vanessa?” Frost asked. “Are you Vanessa?”

“That’s right,” she responded to the man in the dark suit.

“Listen,” he said as he pulled up a chair to her bedside, “I think Harleen is in trouble. I need your help.”

“Harleen is in trouble? How do you know Harleen?” she asked sitting up straight in her bed, her heart rate monitor silently increasing in tempo.

“My name is Jonny and I’m a friend of Harleen’s. Have the police spoken to you yet?”

“No, uh, not yet. Not since I’ve been in the hospital. I just woke up not too long ago. What do you mean you’re a friend? Are you her _boyfriend_?” Vanessa asked, a huge smile appearing across her face despite the ordeal she was put through and despite the fact that she was lying in a hospital bed.

“Haha, no, no, no. I’m not her boyfriend,” Frost clarified, “but it is really important that you do _not_ mention Harleen’s name when the police talk to you. It’s really important.”

“Okay...” Vanessa’s voice trailed off as she looked down at the heart rate monitor on the end of her finger. “Is she in some sort of trouble or something?”

“No, I wouldn’t say that, I just...” Frost put his forehead in his hand and ran it through his short hair. All he could think about was that connecting Harleen to the Sanctuary and putting her on the radar of detectives yet again would definitely raise a few red flags. He couldn’t have any savvy detective working things out with all of the failsafes and misdirects he and Joker had put in place. “I just need you to say you were alone when you got back to the car. Say you’re my girlfriend and I lent you the car, okay?”

“O—” Vanessa began to speak as she was cut off by a familiar voice.

“Ms. Crane?” the officer from the parking garage stood at the entrance to the open curtain of her cordoned off section of the large room, which held five other beds. Officer Todd’s partner stepped into view and surveyed the two as Todd continued. “Do you have a few minutes to talk about last night?”

“S-sure,” she responded. “Anything you need.” Her eyes were large and she appeared to be even more pale than before.

“I’m Officer Jason Todd and this here is my partner Officer John Blake... How’s your head? Do you remember anything?” he asked with a look of concern in his young face.

“It’s... okay. I do... remember some things. I’ll try my best,” she said with a half smile.

“Can you tell me where you were coming from before you got back to the garage?” he asked.

“I... uh... I went to a show with a friend,” Vanessa said, looking over at Frost and back to the officer, “but we parted ways to our separate vehicles. I was coming from the Majestic. We saw Phantom of the Opera, which ended before eleven... We, um, stopped at a bar for a quick drink and we were out of there by midnight. That’s around the time I got back to the... my car...”

“Okay... okay...” he uttered as he jotted down some notes in his notepad. “Your car... it was registered to...” he turned back a few pages to view his notes, “Joseph Carr Wildlife Sanctuary. Is that a business you own or—”

“If I may, sir,” Frost stated with the utmost respect, “Vanessa is my girlfriend. I work for the Wildlife Sanctuary and I let her, um, _borrow_ the car. I’m not supposed to, but she really wanted to take it into the city to see the show.”

The officers peered at Frost with a coldness that spoke of either authority or disbelief. “You let your girlfriend drive a two hundred thousand dollar vehicle into the city? A vehicle that is _not_ your own?” Officer Todd ran his thumb along the inside of his eyebrow. “And yet you didn’t accompany her?”

“Oh, I wanted to meet my friend, officer,” Vanessa jumped in to save Frost from answering. “I didn’t want him to come with me. It was a girls’ night out.”

“I see,” Officer Todd responded as his partner’s walkie talkie made a static noise before reaching down to turn it off. “And what is your name, sir?”

Without missing a beat, Frost responded to the officer. “My name is Jim Wilson.”

“Okay...” Todd stated as he wrote down the name. “And you work for the Wildlife Sanctuary...”

“That is correct,” Frost replied as he reached over to place his hand over Vanessa’s.

“Well, Vanessa,” Todd said as he moved on from Frost, “do you remember anything at all about your assailant? Height, hair color, skin color, accent—anything?”

“I really don’t remember. I’m so sorry. The doctors said that I could have a little bit of a temporary amnesia since the incident,” Vanessa said, again looking over at Frost.

Frost took her hand in both of his and reassured her. “It’s okay if you don’t remember, sweetie. It’ll come back to you. And when it does, we’ll give these nice men a call, okay?” Vanessa smiled at Frost’s reassuring words hoping that she truly was protecting Harleen.

The officers finished up their interview with Vanessa as Todd handed his business card to her. “If you think of anything at all, please do not hesitate to call me, okay?”

“I promise,” Vanessa stated, unsure if she were lying.

Officer Todd stopped and looked at his book. “You were alone when you got back to your car, right?” he asked, already knowing the answer as Vanessa shook her head up and down. “Just in case, can I have your friend’s name? We know she was in the area and we’d like to both ensure that she is safe and also rule her out as a suspect.”

“Oh, my... a suspect? H-her n-name...” Vanessa attempted to speak but could only stutter through her words.

“Yes, Miss Crane, I have her name down possibly as ‘Harleen.’ Is that correct?” he asked, looking up at her from his notebook.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry, it is Marlene. Marlene MacIntosh. She is from out of town and travels all over. She said she was going to Chicago in a few days but, other than that, I’m not sure where she will be. I’m so sorry...”

“That’s okay, Vanessa,” Officer Todd told her. “I hope you feel better soon and please do contact me if you think of anything else, okay?”

“I promise! Thank you, officers!” Vanessa nearly shouted as they turned to leave the room. She looked over at Frost and mouthed, “Did I do okay?”

“You did fine—you did great. No worries,” he reassured her. He had hoped that the officers didn’t pick up on Vanessa looking at him for what may have seemed like approval. “No worries. But, listen, I need to get you out of here. We’ll call a nurse and get you checked out.”

“Okay, if you say so. But where are we going?” she inquired.

“Well, you’ve always wanted to meet Harleen’s mobster boyfriend, right?”

Vanessa rigorously shook her head up and down.

“Well,” Frost responded with a smirk, “it’s your lucky day then.”

*****


	6. Chapter 6

Joker sat in his SUV and stared a hole into the entrance of the hospital. He growled with each exhale as he tried to wait patiently.

Joker, however, was not a man known for his patience. Since his time with Harleen, he had learned a lot of techniques that helped calm him down and helped him clear his head before making any impetuous decisions—such as outright shooting one of his men because they didn’t pay attention to the details. He always justified his lack of patience because those fine details were what kept his empire in existence. It was his bread and butter. It helped give him the upper hand when it came to outsmarting and evading capture by the authorities... for the most part, that is.

He would never forget his most recent stint in Arkham and he never wanted to experience it again. Without Harleen, he may still have been stuck in there—stuck in the dungeon where he would have been left to die.

Frost had explained to him that apart from dropping a bomb on the building from an aircraft, which _was_ technically doable, there was seemingly no way to infiltrate the heavily fortified complex. Even his right hand men who had done some research were telling Frost that they would have to wait it out. Unfortunately, this “research” had come from Ziggy, one of Joker’s most trusted associates who later betrayed him in the most savage way—from bribing Arkham staff and assaulting Harleen to attempting to emulate and eventually usurp Joker’s power.

But Harleen had done a lot to help him learn to be patient again. She was a perfect role model. Always listening, always biding her time to collect information, always forming a response very carefully. But in business you don’t sit around and wait. You make decisions on a moment’s notice. You respond immediately. You act quickly and you take risks. Harleen’s gentle and understanding hand helped to guide him into not being so hasty, even when it came to their relationship— _especially_ when it came to their relationship. Joker was protective and yet somehow Harleen had convinced him to allow her to have some freedom. He never wanted to cage her, his beautiful songbird.

Now, however, all of those feelings of calm and control went out the window the moment he realized that Harleen had disappeared. God help the next person who even _looked_ at him funny—they would most certainly end up with a bullet in their face.

Joker felt the rage boil within him. Not anger for Harleen. No. Never Harleen. It was an anger for himself. He asked himself over and over how he could have been so stupid, how he could have let his guard down, how he could have possibly been so careless with something—someone—that he cared so much about. As much as he hated to admit, Harleen had become his world. She had stolen his heart and he was ready to make big changes in his life because of it.

He sat quietly in the SUV as he waited for Frost to exit the hospital with Harleen. It was taking far too long, he thought to himself. Just sign the release papers and leave—unless she’s in really bad condition. He firmly gripped the steering wheel as he waited on the other side of the street opposite of the hospital entrance so he could see Frost emerge with her.

The impatience gathered like a storm in his torso. He was nervous—as if the Joker could ever get nervous about anything. And yet he was. His body tingled as he waited and all he could think of was holding Harleen in his arms again, never letting her go.

Suddenly, Joker was pulled from his trance by a phone call from Fritz.

“I see you,” Fritz informed him. “And I’m parked a few cars back. I assume Frost is inside?”

“Yeah,” Joker responded flatly. “He’s been in there for a good twenty minutes or more.”

“Just... uh... you know hospitals and how long it takes in there...” Fritz struggled to find words to comfort his boss, as if he needed to be comforted. He would never _dare_ tell him to be patient and that Frost knows what he’s doing, which is really what he wanted to say.

“When they come out, I want you to take FDR but hang back,” Joker stated, finding his bearings and treating this as any other business transaction.

“You got it,” Fritz replied as Joker hung up.

Joker gritted his teeth and growled, dropping his phone into a cup holder while staring across the street. This waiting game was murder for someone whose patience was not a strong suit...

*****

Nearly an hour had passed when Joker finally saw Frost emerge into the driveway of the hospital—with a brunette in tow.

“ _What the fuck..._ ” Joker spoke aloud as he tried to get a better glimpse of the woman. She was slender like Harleen. Maybe she was wearing a wig for some reason. But, no, the way she walked was all wrong. You spend enough time with someone and you learn all of these little idiosyncrasies—the way they walk, the way they flip their hair, the way they straighten their clothing. This was not Harleen and Joker was starting to get angry. He turned his lights on and the couple ran across the busy street in the rain to jump in.

“Who the fuck is this?!?” Joker demanded as Frost jumped in the passenger side, having already placed Vanessa in the back seat. “Where the fuck is Harleen??” Joker’s voice was seething with fury as he adjusted the rearview mirror to get a look at the new passenger.

“I’m sorry, the info the guys had... They thought it was Harleen, but it was not,” Frost said, swallowing hard. “This is her friend, Vanessa.”

Joker’s unchecked rage finally boiled over as he punched the dashboard of the vehicle. He would never hurt Frost, but he really wanted to shoot someone right about now.

Vanessa gasped and jumped in her seat at the hooded man’s response. She couldn’t see much of his face except for the moment that she caught a glimpse of his eyes in the mirror. They were blue with dark circles around them, as if he hadn’t slept for a while. His skin looked unnaturally pale and she could see a few tattoos and maybe some scars, but she wasn’t sure. He was wearing dark pants, a dark jacket, and a black knit cap.

 _Is this Harleen’s mob boyfriend?_ Vanessa wondered to herself. He seemed to be pretty on edge, she noted, and she did _not_ want to make the mistake of pissing him off any more than he already was.

Her back was thrown against the seat as Joker peeled out of his temporary parking space outside of the hospital and sped away.

“Just be careful,” Frost said under his breath as Joker made his way back to the highway and headed north.

Joker didn’t breathe a word for the rest of the trip.

*****

“Bring her to the back room,” Joker instructed Frost as he jumped out of the SUV, slamming the door and heading straight into the club. He was pissed beyond belief. Instead of Harleen, they had rescued her friend Vanessa.

 _Who gives a fucking shit about her?_ Joker thought to himself. His brow furrowed and he snarled to himself. _Harleen does,_ he realized and his mood softened slightly.

“Hey,” a soft voice called to Vanessa as she was being led into the building by Frost. “This is yours.”

Vanessa turned and saw Floyd reach out his hand to hers with a strand of silver dangling from his fingers. It was the necklace Harleen had given to her over dinner.

“Floyd! How did you...? I...Thank you so much... you have no idea how much this means to me,” Vanessa said as she smiled at the man as they walked into the building together.

Joker walked into the club and headed to his private room in the back—a room where he had shared plenty of good times with Harleen. He looked at his desk and remembered a moment early in their relationship when she laid on the surface, his face between her legs and her mouth making the most memorable sounds. He sat down in his chair and stared forward as Frost brought the woman into the room followed by the men.

Looking up, Joker surveyed the room and his eye caught sight of Floyd.

“And who the fuck is this? Huh?” he asked with annoyance.

“This is Floyd. He, uh, led us to Vanessa... he might have information about Harleen,” Miles replied.

“We made a decision to bring him with us, boss. That was my fault,” Fritz followed up, hoping that Joker would understand.

“Take him out. I’ll deal with this one first,” he stated as he looked at the sable-haired beauty sitting on the couch opposite from him. “Vanessa... I need you to help us find Harleen.”

“Who... who are you?” Vanessa asked as she squirmed in her seat. She held the necklace in her hand and took a deep breath in, looking up at Frost in the soft light and then back to Joker.

“Oh, why I am Harleen Quinzel’s betrothed,” he stated simply, staring at Vanessa who had a bewildered look in her huge eyes. “Please call me...” he paused for dramatic effect as he pulled the hat from his head, causing his green hair to cascade out, “...Joker.”

“What the...” Vanessa began to say. The blood drained from her face and she became faint, having to steady herself by putting her arms out at her sides on the couch. “But...” She couldn’t understand his words as he continued to speak, like she was in a dream and couldn’t quite put things together.

“It’s me, sweetheart. We finally meet in the flesh,” he said in a sing-song voice while running his hands through his silky tresses. “I’ve learned so much about you.”

“I... I...” Vanessa stammered, trying to speak but feeling as if someone had turned off her voice box. “I... did not know... I didn’t know that...”

She was clearly in a state of shock. She sat frozen in place as she stared at the man behind the desk. She knew what the Joker looked like, but it was as if her brain refused to make the connection until he revealed his emerald hair. His skin was pale, his lips were slightly reddened, his teeth were silver, his hair was green, his eyes were blue... he was frightening yet attractive all at the same time.

“You didn’t know what, Vanessa? You didn’t know that I was Harleen’s lover?” Joker asked, tilting his head to the side and surveying the woman through narrowed eyes. “Now you understand why she kept it so secret.”

“Y-Yes...” she replied. “Please don’t hurt me, Mr. Joker.” Her eyes started to tear up as she noticed that he was strapped with a holster. She looked around the room toward Frost and another man, who was holding a small machine gun, and inhaled as she bit her bottom lip.

Not one known for his patience, Joker swiped his hand through his hair again and looked down at his desk.

“Miles,” he said, referring to the man with the machine gun, “would you please get our friend Vanessa a glass of water with ice? Let’s make our guest feel welcome. I’d hate it if she thought she was in harm’s way.”

Miles nodded his head and left the room as Joker stood up and turned to face the wall behind his desk. Pressing along the wall, a panel slowly sprung open to reveal a built-in mini bar. He grabbed two tumblers and poured them half full of cognac, turning to offer them to both Frost and Vanessa, the latter of which raised her hand to decline. Joker shrugged his shoulders and took a sip from the glass while handing the other to Frost.

“Vanessa... Vanessa, what is your last name?” Joker asked as he swirled his drink in his glass.

“It’s Crane. Vanessa Crane...” she responded, her eyebrows upturned showing a sincere worry.

“Vanessa Crane,” he repeated, the name slightly ringing a bell. “Miss Crane... is it _Miss_?”

“Yes,” she replied hoarsely.

“Well, Miss Crane, I’m not going to hurt you. I need you to help me find Harleen,” he explained as he sat back down in his chair. Miles entered the room with a fresh glass of water with ice and handed it to Vanessa.

“Have a drink, Miss Crane,” Joker instructed. “The water will help.”

Vanessa took a sip and looked up at the fearsome man with green hair. Mustering confidence, she finally found her voice and spoke.

“The last time I remember hearing about you was when they accused you of murdering those men—the doctor and the guard. And, before that, you _kidnapped_ Harleen and kept her for a week in a warehouse. Who knows what you did to her then... how you hurt her. I cannot believe she would be with _you_.” Vanessa’s words stung as they came rushing out of her mouth.

Joker’s face registered no response while Frost raised his eyebrows and glanced down at the woman sitting next to where he was standing. The room was completely silent.

“It’s true,” Frost told her quietly. “You believed me in the hospital when I said that you would finally meet Harleen’s mobster boyfriend. Well, this is him.”

“I don’t... believe it,” Vanessa stated in a matter-of-fact voice.

At the same time, old conversations with her best friend flashed through her head—conversations about her mysterious boyfriend.

She said he was in the mob. She said he killed lots of people. She said he was a bad guy. But she also said that he treats her so well—like a queen. _Literally like a queen,_ she thought to herself. _The Queen of Gotham City._

There was a rumor that the Joker had found a female partner because he seemed to have fallen off the radar. Some people had even claimed to see him around town, sometimes with a blonde woman, but they would later recant their story. The Joker was a wanted man and he had somehow been able to survive— _thrive_ even, as evidenced by the opulence in his club—without being tracked by the authorities.

Joker let out a half laugh as he rolled his eyes. “Listen, doll, I don’t need you to believe me. I could show you some of the photos that Harleen herself took as she sucked me off... right about in the same spot you’re sitting in...”

The words caused both Frost and Miles to raise an eyebrow and share a glance. They were both under no delusions that they couple didn’t enjoy each other’s company on every surface of the club, the mansion, the car—wherever suited their fancy.

As much as Joker was kidding Vanessa about showing her pornographic selfies, he knew that he would need her on his side. He couldn’t have this woman—whom Harleen cared for so much—interfere with their search or give him false information. He _did_ need her to believe him, but he was so impatient for show and tell. He could so easily pull out his gun and threaten her. He thought for a moment. He thought about Harleen. He thought about how she would hate him for threatening her friend. He rested his forehead on the tips of his fingers as he swirled his cognac.

“Vanessa...” he said, his voice sounding dark and menacing. “Vanessa Crane, I want you to know that I could pull my gun out and hold it to your forehead. I could really put you in danger. But I won’t.” He looked up at Vanessa who sat with a mix of confusion and determination on her face. “I won’t do that because I know she loves you. And I love her...” He paused to take a drink. “I need your help and I would like to have it without having to threaten you.”

Vanessa looked away from the Joker’s glowering stare and down at her shaking hands, which she had clasped around the glass of water in her lap. She was torn between wanting to believe the clown freak and wanting to grab the gun from beneath Frost’s jacket and using it to put a bullet in his pale face. She took a deep breath and hoped she wouldn’t regret what she was about to say.

“Show me a photo. Show me a photo and I’ll tell you everything I know,” Vanessa stated, her voice strong and clear. All three men were surprised at the request, including Joker whose blue eyes grew large as a smirk traveled across his face.

“You dirty pervert... I should have known that Harley would have some kinky friends,” he replied, pulling out his phone and navigating to his photo gallery. “Here,” he said as he handed the phone to Vanessa, “go ahead and swipe through a few since you’re _clearly_ such a voyeur. Maybe I’ll invite you to join us next time.” He said his words with jest—one of the first times since Harleen went missing that he had made a joke, though he immediately wondered if there _would_ be a next time...

Vanessa swiped through the photos—the first one being a blonde woman with her mouth around what appeared to be a large penis, her eyes halfway open and looking at the camera. It looked like Harleen. The next photos that followed were quite eye-opening: a fuzzy picture of a deer in a big yard, a blonde woman bending over an oven in a big kitchen, a plate of food at a fancy restaurant, a blonde woman at the same fancy restaurant sitting across the table from the previous plate of food, a necklace in a store window, a selfie of Joker with a woman who looked a lot like Harleen, a very clear photo of Harleen standing in sunshine, about ten photos of Harleen in a bikini at the beach, a selfie of Joker standing in front of a mirror with his shirt pulled up to expose a muscular abdomen with a tattoo of the name “Joker” and a smile emblazoned across its width, a photo of a huge erect penis pointing upward with the same Joker and smile tattoos clearly visible.

“Uh...” Vanessa swiped quickly again to see yet another angle of the same penis. “Oh, uh...” she stammered again as she swiped to the next photo of a woman holding the penis in her slender hand as she smiled into the camera. It was Harleen. There was no question. “Um...” Vanessa cleared her throat and turned the screen off before handing the phone to Joker. She couldn’t help but think about the huge dick he had in his pants and she was sure his ego was stoked knowing that she looked at his photos.

Frost stood and watched Vanessa quietly as he tried to hold back a huge smile and what would have certainly been a hearty chuckle.

“Okay,” Vanessa spoke up, “So... I... believe you.”

“Good,” Joker responded with a look of satisfaction on his face. “Now tell me what you know about Harleen. Where is she?” The smile faded and Joker was no longer playing around.

“Honestly, Mr. Joker, I have no idea. I remember coming back to the parking garage with her... I remember that it was dark and the air was cold... We had just come back from having a drink at the bar and we were laughing. There... there was a white van parked a few spaces down from ours, which we found to be really annoying. Out of all of the empty spaces in the garage, this big van had to park close to us. That’s when we heard movement behind us. All I remember is seeing a dark figure suddenly appear and take down Harleen with what looked like a long pipe. And then he immediately turned to me and I think he punched me in the face... at least that’s what the doctors believe happened. I remember talking with Floyd in the garage and then I think they took me away in an ambulance. After that, my next memory wasn’t until I woke up in the hospital a few hours later.” Vanessa took a deep breath. “That’s all I know.”

“This person,” Joker began, “can you describe anything else about him? How tall? Eye color? His clothes? Did he have a smell?” He leaned into his desk, his hands clasped together in front of him next to his drink. “Did he say _anything_?”

“No... no he didn’t say a word,” Vanessa said, concern etched on her face. She knew how important it was to find Harleen and find her soon. “He was tall—probably about six feet—and he was thin but muscular... He was wearing all black including a mask that completely covered his face and eyes. The only thing I remember is the black figure hitting Harleen with the pipe and the light shining off of it as he swung it. Then he dropped it and came for me at that point.”

Joker pressed his lips together and looked down at his tattooed hands. He thought about what he learned in his years of committing crimes. He asked himself what the five senses would perceive—what you see, taste, touch, smell, and hear. He pondered that point for a moment.

“Vanessa,” he started, “when he dropped the pipe, what kind of sound did it make?”

“Oh... well... now that I think about it, it didn’t make the sound a pipe would make. I... I remember thinking that for a split second because I had hoped the sound would alert someone else. It sort of just clattered to the ground, I guess.”

“Like a piece of wood?” Joker asked.

“Yes... Yes, I think so,” Vanessa replied.

Joker sat up straight and locked eyes with Frost, who shook his head in tacit agreement.

“What? What? Do you guys know where she is?” Vanessa asked, the anxiety forcing its way into her voice. She looked back and forth between Joker and Frost before they began to speak.

“He must have gotten out. How the _fuck_ did we not know that he got out?” Joker yelled as he stood up and kicked his chair behind him. Anger started to register in his eyes and blood flushed his pale skin.

“I’ll get the guys right away. We’ll head up to Briarcliff Manor... you know he probably inherited his father’s estate,” Frost spoke, always the picture of calm.

“ _I_ will be going with you... If he’s there, I want to be the first one to finish what I should have done ten years ago. Why the _fuck_ didn’t I kill him then?” Joker practically screamed as he finished off his bourbon and threw the glass onto the floor, causing Vanessa to jump.

“You,” Joker said, pointing straight at Vanessa. “You’re coming with us. You could be useful.”

“C’mon,” Frost said, his face tense but his words gentle, “you can ride with me.”

*****


	7. Chapter 7

The group of four black SUVs traveled the 40-minute drive to Briarcliff Manor from the Bronx in record time without drawing attention from the police. Cars moved out of the way for the convoy, which looked like law enforcement themselves, as they raced quickly on the highway to their final destination.

“Where are we going?” Vanessa asked Frost as Joker drove. “You know who the guy is?”

There was silence for a long time until Frost finally spoke, pulling his head from his phone.

“It’s an old business partner, Vanessa. He was just released from prison a few months ago and we didn’t know about it. We weren’t expecting it,” Frost said, holding his phone up in a gesture to Joker as if he had just discovered information. “He was released in June,” Frost said quietly to Joker. “He’s had quite a bit of time to probably follow us and make plans without us even realizing it. Jesus, I’m sorry, J. I’m sorry I didn’t catch this earlier.”

Joker shot an angry glance at his passenger. He was mad, but he could never stay mad at Frost. Nicholas Hughes was not due for a parole hearing for another year, but the circumstances around his father’s death must have prompted his lawyers to petition for an earlier release. Money can buy virtually anything, after all, including an early parole hearing and freedom for white collar criminals.

“But how did you know it was the business partner, Jonny?” Vanessa asked, using Frost’s first name which caught his attention. It had been a while since a woman other than Harleen had called him by his first name.

He turned around in his seat and looked at her, two men practically wearing riot gear flanking her sides.

“It wasn’t a _pipe_ that he dropped, Vanessa. It was a _cane._ This old business partner uses a cane and his physical description you gave is the same: tall, thin, and able to take someone down with a punch. Now, when we get there, I need you to stay in the vehicle. I want you to sit down on the floor in front of your seat, okay?”

Vanessa gulped as the vehicle slowed and took the exit off of the highway, making a few turns through a gorgeous neighborhood full of giants mansions set far back from the road. Finally, Joker slowed, signaling to the cars behind him to stop as he carefully pulled into a driveway that appeared to be completely empty.

“Get down, Vanessa,” Frost yelled back as he pulled a semi-automatic rifle to his chest protected with the same kind of vest that they had given to her.

The SUV came to a stop in the driveway of a massive brick home and the four men inside jumped out. Soon, the three other vehicles pulled in near them and the driveway was crawling with men wearing bullet-proof vests and carrying weapons. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought it was an FBI raid.

The men carefully spent the next hour searching the property to no avail—no Nick and no Harleen. Vanessa could hear one of the men state that someone had definitely been there recently. There was unexpired food in the fridge and the hot water heater was on. She then heard a round of gunshots fired, which startled her and caused her to duck down even farther on the floor. And then the world was quiet again.

Joker and Frost emerged from the house and returned to the group of vehicles where the crew had begun to congregate.

“You...” Joker said, pointing at one of his men, “I need you to do something.”

“Whatever you need, boss,” the man responded. It struck Vanessa how little these men actually looked like “bad guys.” Frost could pass off as a completely normal person, the man Joker had called down the driveway could work in an office... but Joker, well, Joker was a completely different animal—and an animal Vanessa believed he was. But he was an animal who cared deeply for her best friend to the point that they were to be married.

She watched as Joker stood at the back of the vehicles and pointed down the driveway, not able to hear what he was saying through the muffled words.

“I have Fritz on it,” Joker told Frost as everyone began piling back into the vehicle.

“Think he’ll make it happen?” Frost asked.

“Yes,” Joker responded curtly. “Everyone has a price.”

*****

Harleen awoke—still chained and strapped to her chair—to the sound of Nick humming and laughing to himself.

“Oh, Harls, you have to see this!” he exclaimed as he pulled a laptop on a cart close to where she was seated. “I have so many videos! It was a major pain in the ass back in the day because memory cards were so small and you could eat up a hold card with just a few videos. You remember that? It’s incredible how far we have come!”

Harleen sat bewildered as she listened to her captor—a man who had been treating her like a piece of garbage, injecting her with unknown substances, and killing small animals in front of her—and yet here he was speaking about the complexities of digital video development as if they were having a friendly little chat. Her brain was so foggy from the trauma, lack of sleep, and the drugs over the past twelve hours that she wasn’t quite certain what was real. In fact, she had no idea how long she had been there. Twelve hours could have been a day or two or more.

She thought about the man in front of her and attempted to get a fix on his mental state. He was most certainly psychotic but was he dissociative as well? How did he move from serious to crazy so quickly?

It reminded her of how Joker was perceived by the masses. Psychotic, dissociative, insane, untreatable... these were all terms used to describe him in the files she read at Arkham. But after she removed him from his medication and got to know him as a person, she realized that, while some parts of him were a little crazy, he was incredibly sane. He may be cold and calculated, but it didn’t make him psychotic. His switching back and forth between serious and crazy was an act he put on not only for society at-large but also for his own men and even for himself. At least that was _her_ professional opinion.

There was always some vestige of humanity within Joker—some piece that allowed him to _care_ for certain people. Nick, however, did not appear to have that aspect within his psyche. He was charming when he needed to be. He was most certainly narcissistic. He didn’t care whom he used and if they were to be discarded. But Joker was different. He did use Harleen at first; he did manipulate her. But he never discarded her. She saved him and that made an impression on his psyche—something that Nick would never comprehend.

“Here, watch this one!” Nick yelled as he started the video and turned the laptop screen toward Harleen.

It was a scene of a beautiful young woman with long dark hair standing at a table over a birthday cake alight with flame. A man was just off camera playing a few parsed out chords on a guitar before rallying everyone in the room to sing.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Jessica, happy birthday to you!”

The camera zoomed into Jessica’s face as she smiled—presumably at the man leading the song—and took a deep breath. “Wait, should I blow them out yet?” she asked. There was laughter in the room.

“Yes, blow them out, ya goofball!” the familiar voice said. “But don’t forget to make a wish!”

“Okay... I wish for—” the woman started to speak before she was interrupted.

“Noooo!” the man called out as others joined him. “A silent wish or it doesn’t come true!”

“Oh, so is that what I’ve been doing wrong all of these years?” she asked in a faux sincere voice. “Okay, here goes!” Applause from possibly a dozen people erupted as she finished blowing out the final candle.

“How does it feel to officially be twenty-five?” the man off-camera asked before stepping into the frame, which was held tightly on Jessica’s face as if to capture her and only her.

“I’m officially old, Jack!” she said as she reached out to embrace him, his face in the frame for a few seconds.

It was Joker. He was young and beautiful and perfect—just like Harleen imagined him to be. His dark brown hair was tousled. His smile was sweet and kind. His words were playful and loving.

Tears stung Harleen’s eyes but she couldn’t pull herself away from the images in the video.

“Nicky, make sure you get me, Jack, and the cake in the video this time!” she yelled as the frame of the video widened. Jack looked like a cool modern hippie in his white t-shirt and guitar strapped to his back. He looked like the kind of person that you could sit around for hours and talk to about life and philosophy and goals and finding meaning in the small things. Jessica was beautiful with her long, dark brown hair and her pretty blue top. She had a disarming smile and a laugh that was infectious. She held onto Jack and lightly slapped his chest as he quietly said something that was most likely sarcastic. Jessica leaned in to kiss Jack on the cheek and he quickly turned so she was kissing his lips.

“Oh, my wish came true! All I wanted was a sweet birthday kiss!” Jessica said as Jack then started to humorously bite her neck, clearly adding so much saliva that she started to scream with laughter.

“Jaaaaaack!” was the last thing that could be heard before the video cut out.

“Good one, right?” Nick asked as he looked into Harleen’s tearful face. She did not answer. “I _said_... that’s a _good one, right?_ ” he asked again but slowly.

“Yeah... good one,” Harleen responded as tears began to flow down her cheeks.

“Good,” he stated coldly, “I have more.”

Harleen’s mind began to obsess over the scene, which she would most certainly memorize. Their relationship was so pure, so perfect. And the man responsible for ending it was directly in front of her. Who knew what his intentions were with her. She could only wonder if she would ever get out alive. Would she even have a future with Joker?

“Mrs. Harleen Napier... I think that has a good ring to it, don’t you?” Nick asked as if he could read her mind. “I mean, I think ‘Jessica Napier’ had a better flow, but we all know what happened there, right?”

“Y-yes...” Harleen felt she was being conditioned to answer anytime he had a question.

“Look, Harleen, I did some tests on you and I need you to do something for me.”

“What? What do you mean? What kind of test?” Harleen asked, disgusted by the fact that she was his guinea pig.

“Well, Harleen Quinzel... drum roll please...” he took his hands and drummed them against her naked thighs, her dress not reaching her knees as she sat in her wheelchair. “You, madam, are _pregnant._ Now, it can’t be mine, unfortunately, so I guess it means that Jack is going to be a daddy again. Yay! He’s not shooting blanks!”

“Wait, that’s... that’s not possible...” Harleen said in total confusion.

“Well, _peaches_ , the blood test doesn’t lie, now does it?” Nick placed a printout in front of her with panel of chemicals that were tested. “See? Pregnant. Right there. Also, your cholesterol is a little high. Maybe you need to lay off the fats, yeah?”

Harleen sat in silence looking at the paper in front of her. She was on the pill. There was no way she could be pregnant—the pill is 99.9% effective. She even remembered reading it on the packet.

Again, as if reading her mind, Nick chimed in: “You might be on the pill, but it doesn’t always work, especially if you’re bad about taking it at the exact same time everyday. Anyway, you don’t have to believe me. We’ll just watch your belly grow over the next few months and you’ll see!”

 _Next few months,_ Harleen thought to herself. _I don’t think I can withstand being here for the next few hours..._

“Anyway, I need you to do something for me. We’re going to write a little love letter to your fiancé.” Nick brought over a clipboard with paper and a pen and placed it in Harleen’s lap. “I want you to write ‘To Daddy With Love, Harleen.’ What do you think?”

Harleen stared at the blank paper on her lap and could not believe what she was being asked to do.

“C’mon! I haven’t got all day for this!” Nick screamed at her.

“I-I can’t write with my hands cuffed together,” she told him.

“Fine,” he retorted, pulling a long chain from under his shirt collar containing a key as a pendant. He unlocked her right hand and gestured at her to begin writing. “You’re right-handed, right? Start writing.”

Harleen sighed and began to write, though it was messy and horrible. Nick saw how jagged the lines were and accused her of trying to sabotage the letter.

“I’m cold, I’m tired, I’m locked up in a fucking warehouse—of course I’m not going to have the best penmanship!” Harleen yelled at him.

Nick smiled and spoke words of encouragement. “Well, just practice a little bit and I’ll give you a new piece of paper.”

Harleen looked up at him and back down at her paper as she began to practice at his behest when all she wanted to do was stab him in the neck with the pen. Or shove it up his nose. She began to think of all of the terrible things to do to him that would give her such pleasure and her hand began to loosen.

 _Stab him in the eye right now! Do it!_ Harleen almost succumbed to her inner voice commanding her to maim her captor, but the rational portion of her inner voice told her that it was a calculated risk she should not take. Maybe someone could be taken down by a mere ballpoint pen in the movies, but this was no movie. She had to work on a long-term strategy, just like Joker did in Arkham.

Nick gave her a new piece of paper which she wrote what he requested in a nearly normal penmanship. Even with all of the practice, she couldn’t control the shake in her hand, which resulted from lack of food and sleep.

“Very nice,” he said approvingly. “This will do well.” He took the paper away, folded it up, and placed it on the long table. He then reached for Harleen’s arm, which he gripped hard enough that it would leave a mark just hours later, and he placed it back into the handcuff. “Okay, dear, I’m going to put you back in your little room for now. You can just stay in your chair, okay?”

Harleen refused to answer, which is when Nick’s hand slapped her hard across the face.

“You will answer me, you fucking bitch. Do you understand?”

“Yes...” Harleen said defeatedly.

“Good girl... Now, I’m going to put you in your room in your chair, okay?” he asked again.

“Okay...” Harleen responded robotically.

“Good girl, now you’re getting the hang of it! Don’t you like being a good girl?”

“Yes...” she responded again as she felt herself being carted back to her pitch black room through the hallway of persimmon lights. “Yes, I like being a good girl.”

*****


	8. Chapter 8

Vanessa watched as the convoy of now three vehicles left the long driveway and headed toward a quaint town along the river. As they approached, Vanessa began to recognize that it was the town where Harleen used to work—where Arkham Asylum was located.

“He's Catholic, right? Then it has to be Trinity,” Frost told Joker. “It’s the only one that makes sense.”

“All right, just tell me where to go,” Joker responded leaving Vanessa completely out of the loop.

Joker phoned the car behind him and informed him not to follow into the parking lot as they pulled up to a huge stone cathedral. Both cars turned into a plaza and waited as they watched Joker’s vehicle park on a side street next to the packed church.

“Vanessa,” Frost said as he turned to her and removed the vest from his body, “I need you to come in with me.”

“But... my face... it’s all bruised,” she told him as he looked at her perfect pale skin marred by a brown bruise while assisting her out of the SUV.

“Here,” he said, gently pulling her hair in front of her face to eclipse the view. “You can barely tell.”

“And... my clothes... they’re still a little dirty from last night,” she explained. She turned around and Frost attempted to brush off some of the dirt from her jacket without success.

“Can we just take off the jacket?” he asked as she gazed up at him with her pretty eyes.

“I... guess... I just might get a little cold,” she said as she removed the jacket from her shoulders to reveal a snugly fitted sleeveless dress.

“Well, I, uh...” Frost responded as he handed the jacket to a man inside the SUV and closed the door. “I guess I’ll just have to... hold you close.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened even more at his words as he draped an arm around her and guided her into the church doors like a well-dressed couple heading for Sunday service.

It was late morning, but not late enough for mass to be finished. They entered the large room just as the congregation rose to sing its final hymn. Frost moved to the corner and scanned the entire room, finally laying eyes on a tall man near the front with wide shoulders and short, dark hair. It was confirmed the moment he turned to the side and his familiar bushy mustache was visible.

As the hymn ended, Frost and Vanessa found an empty seat in a pew at the back waiting for the service to finish. As soon as people stood to leave, Frost made a bee-line for Evans at the front with Vanessa following suit.

“Dr. Evans,” Frost called out as he approached the man through the crowd of people. “Dr. Evans, it is nice to see you.” Frost held out his hand and Evans accepted it, shaking his hand firmly.

“Mr. Frost,” Evans responded warmly with only a slight tinge of nervousness in his voice, “I see that you have recovered well. How are you?” He would never forget the work he had done to help Frost recover from a gunshot wound.

“I’m doing very well,” Frost replied, “...thanks to your handiwork.” He looked past Evans to a lovely woman with brown curly hair. “And you must be Mrs. Evans?” Frost said with a charming smile as he held his hand out to shake.

The woman smiled widely and took Frost’s hand. “Indeed, I am. It is nice to meet you.”

“Well, I must say that your husband saved my life. If it weren’t for him, I would not be standing here today.” Frost said his words with reverence as he looked Evans directly in the eye.

“And who is this lovely young woman here?” Evans asked, changing the subject.

“Oh, this...” Frost stepped back and looked at the attractive woman standing next to him. “This is my girlfriend, Vanessa.” Frost was slightly enjoying the fact that he so often got to refer to Vanessa as his girlfriend.

“Oh, is that so?” Evans said as he extended as huge hand to Vanessa. “I never forget a face and you look quite familiar, young lady.”

There was an awkward silence as Vanessa smiled at Evans while Frost determined his following words. She pulled her hair farther in front of her face to cover her bruise.

“Dr. Evans...” he began, “can we talk to you privately for a moment?”

The huge mustache on Evans’ upper lip partially covered the frown that formed on his face. “I suppose so, Mr. Frost. Maggie, I will meet you outside... Just give me a few minutes,” Evans stated as he kissed his wife on her temple before leading the pair to the front corner of the room far away from the crowd of people.

“Mr. Frost... I am glad you are doing well, but I really hoped that I would never see you again.”

“I know, doc, but I need your help or any information that you can give me,” Frost said, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Mr. Frost, I am all out of help to give you. It was a one-time only type of deal,” Evans responded firmly. “You can’t expect me to help your boss... Asking me to help him here, right now... This is a house of worship and—”

“Dr. Evans,” Frost interrupted, “it’s not about my boss. It's Harleen... Harleen is missing and we know who took her. It’s Dr. Edwards’ son, Nick. Do you remember him? He was let out of prison early. He followed Harleen and he kidnapped her. He... did this to Vanessa,” he stated as Vanessa took her cue to show off the bruise on her cheek.

Evans had a look of shock on his face as he reached for a pew to steady himself. He sat down and stared at the floor while wringing his hands together before speaking.

“I’m sorry, Vanessa,” he said contritely. “Nick... I’ve known him for a long time, since before he was a teenager... That was back before the divorce when we called him Billy. His parents had their hands full with him.” Evans sighed as he looked up toward the beautiful ceiling of the church. “He was a real troublemaker when he was a kid. You know... his parents were going through the divorce _and_ he was acting out. He assaulted this girl when he was sixteen or seventeen, but his dad—of all people—knew that it was more than just as a result of the divorce. There was something wrong with that boy.”

Evans thought for a moment about Nick’s tragic family background. His father, Dr. Wayne Edwards, was Harleen’s one-time supervisor at Arkham Asylum. Though blamed on Joker by the police, Harleen killed him in his own home in an attempt to save Joker’s life, which was also the same night that Frost was delivered to Evans with his near-mortal injury. Dr. Edwards was married to Marcia Hughes, whom he divorced around the time that Billy started to act out and assault a fellow classmate—the same classmate that he continued to stalk as an adult and the same who had accepted an offer of marriage to become Mrs. Jessica Napier.

At that time, Billy Edwards took his middle name of Nicholas and his mother’s last name of Hughes and built a new image for himself in order to gain distance from his father. It helped him put the assault charges as a teenager behind him after he left high school—or so Evans had thought.

Frost sat down next to Evans on the pew as he continued his interrogation. “Did he come and see you since he got out?”

Evans looked down at the ground and shook his head up and down. “Did you know that he was actually adopted? His parents never told him. All they knew was that he was a toddler from an abusive home. The mom could only handle the situation so much before deciding to put him up for adoption... I think she somehow knew Wayne and Marcia through a friend. And that was the 70s, so it was a lot easier to just make that stuff happen without a whole lot of paperwork. The mom stayed in touch for a few months before leaving to go out west. I guess she just wanted to get away from the gravity of the situation... I always wondered if the abuse the boy had experienced as a child impacted the person he grew up to be...”

Frost looked up at Vanessa and back to Evans. “What do you mean by that?”

Evans gave a slight chuckle and crossed his legs. “Nick was a bad seed. It’s as simple as that. He killed little animals for fun... he set fire to things... He was a handful. Marcia and Wayne actually had a child a few years after they adopted Nick—a little girl. That little girl died at the age of eight under suspicious circumstances when Nick was thirteen. The death was ruled accidental but, deep down, they knew that Nick had a hand in it and that it was intentional... And then he stalked and assaulted that girl. He had a severe mental disorder... he still does.” Evans paused and looked at Frost. “Yes, he did come to see me in June or July after he got out of prison. I was always amazed that Nick had stayed out of prison for so long and then to be convicted on fraud charges as opposed to something related to assault or rape or murder. I just...”

“What did he talk about when he came to visit you?” Frost asked.

“Well, he, uh, he wanted to let me know that he was going to somehow carry on his father’s legacy. I suppose he thought that by getting back into pharmaceuticals he would be continuing on his father’s path to help people with mental illness. He told me that he had met a beautiful woman with long blonde hair, that she was super smart, and that he was going to ask her to marry him. He said that he had big plans to re-establish his old pharmaceutical business.”

“Oh my god,” Vanessa spoke up, “do you think he was referring to Harleen?”

“Yes... I believe so,” Frost replied. “He obsesses like that... He... uh... he raped and killed J’s first fiancée thirteen years ago. It was the same woman that Nick stalked and assaulted when he was a teenager.”

“Wait, wait, wait...” Evans said, throwing his hands into the air as he attempted to comprehend what he just heard. “You’re telling me that Nick raped and murdered a woman—a woman who was the _Joker’s_ fiancée—over a decade ago? And this was the same girl that Nick stalked as a teenager?”

“Yes, the very same one,” Frost replied in a low voice.

“But how do you know this? He was never charged with her murder!”

“No, he wasn’t,” Frost replied to Evans’ series of frustrated realizations. “The police never worked it out... but Nick told J himself.”

“So, how did Nick and Joker know each other?” Evans inquired.

“That... that is a discussion for another time, but most likely never,” Frost stated with seriousness as he wanted to protect the identity of his friend. In fact, he feared he had already given away far too much. However, he needed Evans to make the connection that Nick was not someone to be trusted.

“Okay, fair enough,” Evans responded. “Look, Mr. Frost, you know what I know. And, no, I don’t know where he is. I’m assuming that he’s using his father’s estate as an address for his parole officer. But, to be honest, they’re not going to check up on him very often. He was paroled for a white collar crime, not an assault. He said he was getting back into pharmaceuticals, so he has to have a location somewhere.”

“Listen, I appreciate it, doc. I really do...” Frost said as he looked down at his leg. “I honestly appreciate everything that you have done for me and I don’t think I ever expressed that to you. Please, if you think of anything else, let me know.” He grabbed a flyer that remained on the pew for an upcoming church dinner as Evans handed him a pen to write his phone number. “Please call me if you hear anything. I have your number and I’ll contact you if I need to.”

“Well, I hope you don’t need to, Mr. Frost. I... I’m too old to be part of your world. I’m too far removed. I hope for Harleen’s sake that you find her and do what you need to do... I’m sorry that I can’t do more to help you find her,” Evans stated with remorse in his words.

“You have already helped us immensely, doc. Thank you.” And, with that, Frost walked out to the church with Vanessa to Joker’s waiting vehicle certain of his next step.

*****

Frost and Vanessa returned to the vehicle with the news from Evans, explaining that Nick was planning on getting back into pharmaceuticals again.

“So... that means he probably set up another LLC? Depending on how smart he was about it, we can definitely find it,” Joker stated.

“I’m already on it,” Frost explained as he was conducting research with this phone. “Just give me ten minutes and I’ll know where to go.” With several minutes to spare, Frost found his answer on the Department of State website. “He has listed his business under... Smilex Pharmaceuticals LLC. Smilex? Does that mean anything to you?”

Joker looked over at Frost and down at the ignition. “Don’t ask,” he said. “Do we have an address?” he asked, putting the vehicle in drive and pulling out.

“Yep, he’s on 26th in Astoria. I’ll tell you exactly where to go,” Frost stated as Joker screeched out of his parking spot in Dr. Evans’ quiet little town on a mission to head back to into the city once again that day. It was now almost noon and it would take at least 45 minutes to make the journey, but Joker was convinced he would have Harleen back in his arms in time for dinner. He just had to.

*****

Joker and his crew pulled up outside of a dark red, nondescript building in area zoned for industrial and commercial real estate. The building was surrounded by manufacturers and wholesalers, though there was relatively little activity on account of it being a Sunday. The rain was falling hard as the men strategically rushed the entrance of the warehouse only to find that the door was unlocked with the open padlock hanging from door latch. Several of Joker’s men rushed into the building as Joker coolly and calmly walked in after.

The room was large, dusty, and dark, with the exception of one single utility light hanging over top of a table in the rear of the room.  

“J!” Miles yelled back to him. “We got something here.”

Joker walked up to the table which held one item: a small present wrapped in purple paper with a bright green bow.

“ _Don’t_ touch it!” Joker yelled at Miles who was about ready to pick up the package. “It could be a booby-trap.”

“I’ll open it,” Joker heard an unfamiliar voice speak on his right. It was the new recruit that Miles had picked up that morning.

“What is your name?” Joker snarled at the man.

“It’s Floyd, sir,” he stated with a tone of respect.

“Hmph,” Joker huffed flippantly, “That’s an incredibly stupid name. You need a new one, even if it’s just for the next few minutes while you’re still alive. Everyone on the crew has a name. What do you want to be called?”

“I... I don’t know,” Floyd responded, feeling slightly offended by Joker’s words while being put on the spot during a moment when anxieties were running high.

“He was damn good with a weapon, boss,” Miles piped up. “He hit his targets without even looking at them—a dead shot.”

“Yeah... that’ll do,” Joker replied in a gruff voice. “Deadshot. Okay, Deadshot, it’s all yours. Boys, step back!”

Floyd approached the table and picked up the package. “It’s really light. I don’t think it’s a bomb... I’ve held enough in my time to know it’s too light to be a typical bomb.” He placed it back down on the table and began to pull the green ribbon, which snaked through itself as it came undone. The box itself was purple without any wrapping paper, allowing Floyd to easily open the lid. He looked inside to see only two items: a long plastic stick and a handwritten letter.

“Uh, Mr. Joker, I think you need to come see this. Probably just you, though,” Floyd added, sure that the Joker would want some privacy around the matter.

Joker approached and looked in the box. It was a pregnancy test with two lines indicating a positive result, according to the stick itself. Joker stared at the two lines for what seemed like forever before opening the note in his hand. _To Daddy With Love, Harleen_. It was in her handwriting. His look of surprise turned into anger as he realized that she was coerced into writing the note—pregnant or not. He balled up the letter in his hand and punched the table, a guttural sound erupting from the depths of his mouth.

“Check this whole fucking building! Make sure she is not here!” he commanded his men. He knew that she would be nowhere on the premises. Nick was too good for that. He may not have known how to build a bomb, but he excelled at psychological warfare—and this was only one of many jabs in just the past day. Joker brought his hand to his mouth and rubbed hard while stuffing the letter into his pants pocket.

“Was there a note? What did it say?” Frost asked as he approached Joker.

“I’ll show you later... It says that we’re always one fucking step behind this bastard while Harleen is who-knows-where being subjected to who-knows-what. Miles!” Joker yelled to one of his most trusted men.

“Yo!”

“Burn the place down when you’re done,” Joker stated solemnly.

“You got it, boss,” Miles responded.

Joker turned and left the building with Frost immediately behind him—their only option to return to the mansion where Frost would be able to conduct more research on a more powerful and easier-to-use computer system.

*****


	9. Chapter 9

Officer Jason Todd sat at his desk in the 19th Precinct of midtown Gotham and stared at his computer. Something just didn’t feel right about the call that he received the previous night. Call it cop instinct, but things didn’t add up. Why mug a woman and take the time to move her behind her vehicle? Why not take her keys and drive away with the two-hundred-thousand dollar Mercedes? Why no sexual assault? What was the purpose?

He had spoken with his sergeant who told him that, based on the eyewitness statement, there was nothing that could be done. There was no stolen property, no missing persons—only a senseless assault.

“Still... I was wondering if I could just go talk to the folks over at the Joseph Carr Wildlife Sanctuary,” Todd asked his sergeant. “I just have a weird feeling about this case.”

Sergeant Malucci sighed and kicked his feet up on his desk. “Look,” he said with a heavy Gotham City accent, “if you wanna go check it out, go ahead. But... you’re on the street schedule for the next few days. Anyone a flight risk?”

“No, I don’t think so. I’m just checking out a lead...” Todd responded.

“You know we got detectives to do that,” Malucci said bluntly. “You _know_ we don’t pay patrol to investigate.”

“I know, boss, I know. But Griffin and Rojas didn’t want to look into it... They told me to check with you,” Todd explained.

“Jesus, kid,” Malucci huffed, “You got balls, I’ll give you that. Look, you got two hours—tops. Take a trip up on Tuesday. If there’s nothing, then we close it out, you got it?”

“Yes, sir! And thanks, boss,” Todd replied. “It could be nothin’ but I just want to make sure.”

Todd stepped out of his boss’s office and headed straight for his desk. “Yo, Blake, guess what?”

“What’s up?” Blake asked, the more rookie of the two officers.

“You and I are going to grab a black n’ white and we’re gonna take a trip on Tuesday. Sound like fun?” he asked.

“Sounds like fun. Where are we going?” Officer Blake asked, looking up from a file.

“We’re gonna take a little jaunt up to Rye...” Todd started.

“You mean to that wildlife place?”

“The very one,” Todd answered.

“Well... I guess... Number one, why? And number two, why us?” Blake questioned the more senior officer.

“Call it a gut instinct, okay? You’ll learn it when you get more years in,” Todd stated, ribbing his partner for his inexperience. “And it’s us because none of the detectives see the merit in just following up with this. It’s just below their purview and it’s out of ours. But sarge gave the go-ahead, so... You coming with?”

“You bet I am!” Blake responded with excitement. It was always a good day when they could surprise someone on their own turf.

*****

Joker, Frost, and Vanessa made their way to the mansion while the rest of the crew headed to Club Aura and dispersed from there. Some of the guys had been awake for over 36 hours, which can lead to poor decision-making—something Joker certainly didn’t want. He already had a few contingencies in place in the event Nick happened to make an appearance.

Once inside the huge home, Frost made his way to his office in the basement where he began to research anything he could think of whereas Joker invited Vanessa up to his luxurious office on the first floor. Frost shared a glance with Vanessa and smiled as he stepped into his office in the basement.

Just like Harleen, Vanessa was struck by the opulence that surrounded the Joker. Marble floors and columns, elevators, plush carpeting, a gigantic mansion... It was almost too much.

“Sit,” Joker said brusquely as he directed her into his office. “Do you want something to drink?”

“I’ll have what you’re having,” she responded, not wanting to be a burden for the man who was known for occasionally shooting people for seemingly no good reason.

“I’m having a scotch,” he responded again with a terseness in his voice.

“That’s... that’s okay with me,” Vanessa said, almost looking forward to the warmth the alcohol would provide.

Joker sat at his desk and stared at Vanessa making her feel extremely uncomfortable.

“I feel like I’m in trouble, like I’m in the principal’s office at school,” Vanessa said, her blue eyes almost sparkling with a bit of humor.

“When you were out, did Harleen tell you any secrets about the two of us?” he asked, his eyes dark and staring through her face.

“I... uh... what do you mean? Because literally everything about the two of you is a secret,” Vanessa retorted with an almost incredulity at the question.

“Miss Vanessa Crane,” Joker began, “What is it that you do for a living?”

“Oh, well, I am a teacher at a private school.”

“And what do you teach?”

“I teach English and Language Arts. I also teach French and Italian.”

“Smart girl...” Joker replied.

“I was actually born in England and my parents tried to encourage us to learn many different languages when we were young. I lost my English accent after I came here as a child, but I never lost my interest in languages...”

"And what is it that your parents do for a living?" he asked with a scowl.

"My mom is a guidance counselor and my dad was a psychiatrist... He died about twelve years ago," she responded as she took a drink from her glass.

"I see..."

Joker reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled piece of paper. He carefully flattened it out with his fingers in front of him, looking down at it and back up at Vanessa.

“What does it say?” Vanessa asked, hoping that she could break this man’s thick outer shell.

“Did Harleen talk about wanting to get married at all?” Joker answered her question with a question of his own.

“Did she talk about marriage? Well, of course—what girl doesn’t? Yes, she most certainly talked about being engaged. She always seemed a little... I don’t know... sad, I guess, that she couldn’t share certain details with me. All I ever knew was that she was going to be marrying a man who works for the mob. She was really good at keeping secrets. She always has been. I guess that is part of her training in psychology.”

“I see,” Joker responded. “Did she ever mention anything to you about wanting to have children?”

“Oh, my... the tough questions...” Vanessa stated, clearly not wanting to get caught in the middle of any relationship woes. “Well, um... yeah. We definitely talked about having children. If I am to be perfectly honest—and I hope it doesn’t get Harleen in trouble—she mentioned that you were not interested at all in having children while she had hoped... that maybe... she could get you to convert to her way of thinking. She even mentioned that if she happened to become pregnant, what would you do—ask her to abort the baby? She felt absolutely certain that you would not do that.”

“I see,” he said again, sounding like a broken record. He rested his head in his hand and looked down at the note.

“What does it say? May I see?” Vanessa asked curiously, craning her neck to see.

Joker carefully folded it up and put it back into his pocket. “No,” he answered with a voice of steel.

“Oh, okay, I’m sorry. I just... I’m sorry to pry. It’s not my place,” she stated as she sat back in her chair and tried to be as proper as she could.

“I’m going to call Frost to get you. You’re probably hungry, right? He’ll get you something to eat and then he can take you back home,” he informed her. As of right now, he had no use for her.

“Okay, not a problem... If I think of anything, do you want me to call Frost?” she asked.

“Yes, he’ll give you his number, now go wait down the hall by the elevator,” his words were cold and emotionless.

This was the Joker that most people knew—robotic and unemotional. But Vanessa knew that deep down this man had feelings for Harleen and, if anyone outside of law enforcement were to find a missing person, it would be him.

*****

Harleen laid in the warmth of the sun with her eyes closed after having finished her article on mindfulness in the latest edition of her _Psychology Today_ magazine. As she relaxed in the bright Greek sun, she thought about the salient points made in the article, which led her to ponder her purpose in life.

Though only thirty years old, she was concerned that she was not on track with anything—her career, her life, even her relationship with Joker. She was, at times, stricken with self-doubt. Dozens of questions seeped into her brain when she had the chance to think quietly: _Should I have remained a psychologist? Can I ever go back to that career? How did I end up with a man like the Joker? Will I ever feel fulfilled? What is my purpose? What am I going to do with my life?_

She pondered those questions over and over. It was mid-July and it had been seven whole months since she had worked in her field... seven whole months since she felt that she was fulfilling a purpose.

She had always been doing _something_ to make herself useful even as early as twelve when she helped her mother gather and staple papers for the classes she taught at the university. Harleen chuckled to herself as she realized that she probably stapled exams and syllabi used in the writing course that Joker took from her mother. It never failed to impress upon Harleen how so many things were connected if only she took the time to see the connections. Thinking even harder, she realized that she may have actually sat in on the writing class where she would have been in the exact same room as Joker—Jack Napier at the time—at the young age of just eleven or twelve.

Harleen smiled and stretched out her long, tan legs, gazing at the sights in her view. Everything in Greece was bright and beautiful. Even the sky appeared to be bluer than anywhere else. The sands were a bright white beneath the waters, which helped to create a gradient of light aqua to deep cerulean as her eyes traveled out to the horizon. She was surrounded by tree-covered cliffs with homes built into the pockets that could accommodate them. Off in the distance, she could see some landmasses jutting out into the sea with a few sailboats drawing nearer to a fantastic white arch that had eroded away from the mainland. The sea was calm and very few people were on the beach, except for an occasional couple passing through or a child poking in the surf.

An eruption of giggles caught her attention as two children—a boy and a girl no more than six years old—chased each other down the beach under the watchful eyes of their parents who trailed many yards behind. Harleen watched as the couple moved across the sand, walking in time with each other, holding hands and bumping their bodies together while smiling. The little girl stopped to pick up a shell and she turned immediately to run back to her father to show him the new discovery. _Wow,_ Harleen could hear the man say along with other inaudible words. He tousled the little girl’s brown locks as he stood up from his crouching position before kissing his wife on the cheek. It was not only the picture of marital bliss but also familial bliss. Everyone was happy—and who wouldn’t be in a place like this—as they walked down the beach.

Harleen thought about her own life again, her own purpose. Sure, she was helping Joker with some of his business activities, but it was so minimal and she felt like she was getting in the way half the time. Plus, though he never yelled at her, she knew he was internally upset or aggravated with some of her mis-steps.

Business and finance were never her strong suits. She was good with people and always had been. She missed the fulfillment she received when helping others and she knew that she had to return to that somehow. Her life couldn’t be one unending vacation. _Where is the meaning and purpose in that_? She had asked herself many times.

As she watched the children run and play, she realized that she saw herself having her own family. She could feel fulfillment in that. She wanted children so badly. She wanted to be the mom who held her babies when they didn’t feel well or helped them learn and make connections about life. She envisioned herself walking hand-in-hand with Joker on this very beach trailing their children as the couple before her was doing.

 _Joker would be a great father_ , she thought to herself. _He has a soft spot for children deep down._ She thought of the fact that at one point in his life he was almost a father. In fact, she couldn’t _stop_ thinking about it. She could not purge the thoughts from her mind that before he was the big, scary _Joker_ , he was a somewhat normal guy with a normal life, a normal fiancée, and a normal plan.

His fiancée was pregnant with only a short amount of time to go before she was murdered—stabbed dozens of times in her belly. Harleen placed her hand on her own stomach as she tried to comprehend the pain that the woman felt knowing that not only would she die but also the child she was carrying would die.

 _What an awful feeling,_ Harleen thought. _And for J to have to wrap his head around the fact that his business partner and best friend was responsible..._ She shook her head and sighed loudly.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” a voice spoke as a shadow grew closer and fell upon Harleen’s skin.

It was Joker—dressed in purple swim trunks, a short-sleeved flowing white shirt, and a smart-looking gray fedora on his head to cover up his green locks. He stood above her and stroked the top of her head as she reached a slender hand up to meet his.

“You’re going to burn to a crisp if you stay out here too long.”

“I know, babe,” she responded. “I was thinking of coming inside anyway... I’m starving!”

“I know just the place we can go. They make the best moussaka anywhere on the island.”

“I don’t know what that is, but I’ll eat anything at this point!” Harleen replied with a smile as she stood up from her chair and gathered her belongings.

She was quiet on the walk back to their house—owned by Joker himself—as her thoughts again veered to her life and purpose. Though she loved traipsing around Europe for the past few weeks, she knew she couldn’t maintain this forever. She was surprised, however, at how easy it was for a man like Joker to leave. They very easily boarded a private jet and were flown across the Atlantic to Barcelona then to Milan and now to Corfu. Part of her didn’t want this to become too familiar—too easy—because she feared that she would lose her identity without having a direction in life other than to eat at the finest restaurants and relax on the warmest beaches.

She thought about broaching the subject of children with Joker, but she already knew how he felt about it. He believed that he would be a terrible father. He was a monster. How could a monster possibly care for a child? He couldn’t even save the child that was-to-be in his former life...

“What’s going on in that mind of yours, Harls?” Joker asked as they finally reached the steps to enter their cottage.

“Oh, uh, nothing...” she responded. “I just want to put on a little makeup before we head out.”

Harleen headed to the bathroom to apply a few coats of mascara to her eyelashes while Joker proceeded to get dressed in a nice pair of slacks and a white button-up shirt while leaving a few buttons open at the top to reveal a hairless and tattooed chest.

Joker chuckled to himself as he thought about how he was perceived by the masses. To the world, he was a green-haired clown freak with pale skin and red lips. He lived in a grungy old warehouse somewhere in Gotham City and surrounded himself with crime on a daily basis. He was insane. He could never go anywhere. He had no friends. He had goons whom he would impulsively murder if they didn’t follow orders.

While most of this was true or had been true throughout the past, some of it was a carefully calculated fiction—the most prevalent being that he was insane. Joker was not insane, at least he had hoped not. He may have been deeply troubled just after his transformation, but his broken mind never persisted. He would not have been able to build and sustain an empire like he did if he were insane.

While his transformation into becoming The Joker opened his eyes to the way of the world, over time his persona had become somewhat of an act—an act to feed into the fears of the masses so he could get what he wanted, which was power and control. Of course, some parts of his new persona were inextricably intertwined with his old one.

Joker recalled telling Harleen at one point that the old Jack was dead, but he knew it was not entirely true. He had remembered many parts of his old life. He remembered his emotions—especially after they were dredged up by Harleen. He indeed was a different man than he was before but he was by no definition truly insane. Though is it not insane to feign insanity?

Joker kept everyone on edge with his unpredictability—unpredictable to everyone except for Frost. What looked like Joker cackling as he impulsively murdered an associate to the outside was truly a necessity due to some piece of inside information that only he or Frost were privy to. Yes, he shot a man for speaking out of turn at a meeting, much to the surprise of the rest of the crew. But Joker knew that the man had spoken to police about their next move. He knew he would need to take the man out in a violent and dramatic way as a lesson to his other men—a lesson that demonstrated his _certain_ insanity. This feigned insanity is what gave him his edge and his reputation—and it seemed to have worked out fairly well for him.

Joker approached Harleen from behind as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror applying her make-up. She was still wearing only a light blue string bikini, which stirred all sorts of wicked thoughts within his mind.

“Are you going to change into something else or are you going to tease me with all of that skin for the rest of the night?” he asked as he leaned down to kiss her neck.

“I guess so...” she responded, her mind still a thousand miles away.

“Harleen,” Joker said, using her complete first name so she knew he was serious, “Harleen, you have been uncharacteristically quiet this whole day. What is going on in here?” he asked as he kissed the back of her head and then looked at her in the mirror.

Harleen placed her tube of mascara down on the countertop in front of her and took a deep breath.

“J,” she started, “I love all of this. Not every woman gets to do this...”

“But...” Joker said, encouraging her to complete her sentence.

“But I... I want to be fulfilled... I want to feel like my life has meaning...” She turned to face him, her soft blue-green eyes searching his for answers.

“You miss having a career... I know,” Joker said. “I’m... I’m sorry.” His voice was soft and apologetic—an odd combination expected from a man like the Joker.

“J...” Harleen said, taking a deep breath, “J... I really want children. I want to have _your_ children.” It was the first time she had actually said the words out loud. Her abdomen began to ache and flood with warmth at the thought of him inside of her with the sole purpose of attempting to create new life together.

Joker stared into her eyes blankly, the look on his face most likely that of stoicism—a common look for him. Thoughts tumbled around in his mind—thoughts of him not being able to save his first child, thoughts of him being a horrible father, thoughts of bringing a child into this life.

“J... What are you thinking?” Harleen asked as she explored his silent face for any clue. He was so good at hiding his emotions but she—of all people—knew that he _had_ them and hid them well.

“No, Harls, we can’t... we can’t bring a child into... this,” he said as he gestured to the air.

“We can’t bring a child into a life of opportunity and privilege?” Harleen retorted with a slight tinge of frustration in her voice.

“Harley, I don’t want to have this discussion right now. I do not want to discuss this,” he replied, his electric blue eyes narrowed onto her. “You know how I feel about bringing children into our world. It’s not the kind of world for a child... We live in a world full of misery. And I’m too old now to be chasing babies and changing diapers...” He paused a moment to think. “I wear a gun strapped on my body at almost all times. We deal with gangsters—we _are_ gangsters. Do you want a child to grow up in that environment?”

Harleen pressed her lips together to keep herself from speaking. She wanted to blurt out that amidst all of those valid points, he was mostly afraid that he would be a terrible father, that he wouldn’t be able to protect his child... but she kept her words to herself.

“I understand,” she said quietly, a wave of sadness washing over her.

Joker leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips and pulled back to look into her eyes. His hand traveled down her smooth skin to her hips where he found the tie for her bikini and pulled it, effectively loosening it and causing half of the suit bottom to fall limply between her legs.

When faced with a naked or even half-naked Harleen, he could never resist the animalistic need to touch her. He pushed his fingers down through the short hair of her mound and into the soft lips between her legs. She was incredibly wet, which sent his head spinning. He pushed a finger inside of her and pulled out, pressing hard against her clitoris, which elicited an involuntary gasp from her lips. He then pushed two fingers along the bundle of nerves just the way he knew she liked it while dipping into her opening for more fluid. He pressed his hardened cock against her hip and thrust with the same rhythm as his hand, his lips finding hers.

Harleen wanted him within her so badly—even if not to create new life, she still wanted to feel him inside of her. She wanted to hear his heavy breathing in her ear, his gasping for air, the grunt in his throat as he came. Her hands worked to undo his pants and pull his boxers down from his pelvis. With his erect cock now fully exposed, he pushed even harder against her body.

Harleen grabbed his wrist and motioned for him to stop as she removed her bikini bottoms and turned around, now leaning over the marble countertop with her legs open. 

“I want you to cum in me, J,” she said, looking up at his reflection in the mirror.

She loved hearing herself say the words out loud—it made it more real. She felt the delicious pressure as he entered her and her entire lower body flushed with the familiar ache as she heard him groan in pleasure.

She remembered how he told her that the feeling of entering a woman—her soft, warm, and slick opening so inviting—was a feeling like no other and second only to the orgasm itself. It was intoxicating and placed the body on an auto-pilot to ensure that it carried out its biological duty of completion.

They pushed against each other, quickly finding their rhythm as they both breathed heavily. Joker wrapped his arm around her waist and found her sensitive button, stroking it firmly as he pushed himself in and out of her.

A powerful wave soon washed over Harleen’s body, her mouth letting out a very satisfying moan to Joker’s ears. He grunted and pushed himself hard into her, almost forcing her farther up onto the countertop. She watched his face in the mirror as it contorted from a grimace of what appeared to be pain into that of orgasmic relief.

Joker leaned down upon her body and looked at her in the mirror, his lips finding her ear. “Thank you,” he whispered, “I really needed that.”

 _Me too,_ Harleen thought to herself as she panted on the cool marble countertop. _Me too..._

*****


	10. Chapter 10

Several days passed and there were still no leads on Harleen’s whereabouts, causing the crew to be thrust into massive turmoil. Most of the men used the club as their base of operations and would occasionally visit the mansion, but now they were afraid to step foot into his home, lest they be subject to the Joker’s ire.

Joker was sending them on what seemed to be wild goose chases—being pulled to follow a ghost or conduct surveillance of a company that _might_ be something Nick set up. Frost used his abilities to hack into the parking garage and street cameras. They saw a hooded man in a white van pull into the garage and they watched him leave, but his trail went cold. Nothing panned out and it was starting to drive Joker mad—madder than he had even pretended to be.

“I’m going to set the whole city on fire!” he screamed at Frost on the third day of her absence. “Set the fucking city on fire and flush him out.”

Frost’s face was grim having slowly lost the ability for humor and optimism over the past three days. “J... I don’t know what to say... I’m doing my best. I have gotten about as much sleep as you have. I’m basically living here...”

Joker pulled his gun out of his holster and held it in his hands, examining the shine of its pearl handle. “The next person who walks through this fucking door without Harley is getting a bullet in their face.”

“Yeah... I think that’s exactly why the guys are keeping their distance. You noticed that, right? Apparently, I’m the only one with balls big enough to be around you everyday,” Frost told his friend.

“Well, you always were,” Joker stated, replacing the gun back in its holster.

“Shit... Shit, shit, shit...” Frost began to speak as he looked at a flashing computer screen on his desk.

“What the fuck is wrong, Jonny?” Joker asked.

“It’s the police. Look,” he said, pointing to one of the monitors on the wall beside him. “They’re approaching the gate. I’m going to have to let them in.”

“No... you don’t have to do _shit_ ,” Joker snapped.

“J, listen... If I don’t talk to them, they’re going to become even more persistent,” Frost explained. “I need to make this go away.”

“I know how to make this go away,” Joker stated ominously as he reached for his gun.

“No, god damn it, J, no!” Frost yelled. “If you do that, then we’ll never get Harley back. We’ll have law enforcement fucking swarming this place by sundown.”

The phone rang on Frost’s desk. It was the police attempting to buzz their way through the gate.

“You—get upstairs into your inner office. Let me take care of this. _No_ guns, okay?” Frost pleaded with his friend.

Joker turned and walked out of Frost’s office just as he answered the call in his sweetest, most professional-sounding voice.

“Joseph Carr Wildlife Sanctuary, how can I be of assistance?” Frost asked.

“Hello, this is Officers Todd and Blake with the GCPD. We spoke with a Jim Wilson concerning an assault a few days ago. We were wondering if we could step in and talk,” Todd spoke into the speakerphone.

“Sure fellas, just pull up to the front circle and I’ll let you in,” Frost replied and pressed a key on his computer to allow them passage through the gate.

Frost made his way from the basement to the first floor in time to see the police vehicle pull up in front of the house. He assumed that Joker had already taken his position within his inner office. The door of his main office was left wide open, mostly hidden behind a wall that led to a long hallway.

The first floor consisted of a beautiful foyer with a sweeping staircase that led up an open area of the second floor and looked out over the great reception area, which was nestled between two giant ballrooms.

“Gentlemen, hello,” Frost greeted the men as they walked up the front steps of the big mansion. “Please do come in... I’m sorry that you had to travel all the way out here just to talk to me. My boss is currently in Europe, so you won’t be able to see him today.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Todd replied as he and Blake stepped into the foyer and looked up the wide staircase. He poked his head into the reception room full of perfectly maintained couches, coffee tables, area rugs, and anything else that would be expected in a mansion of its type. “I just thought we would stop by just in case. You know, before we close this out.”

“I see,” Frost said, “I’ll do anything I can to help. Just let me know what you need.”

“Nice place you have here,” Blake said as he walked around a couch. “What do you use it for?”

“Well, we have about 250 acres of land that we use for conservation efforts—mostly wild birds since a lot of them fly in to use the lake that you crossed over on your way up the drive. This, uh, used to be an old golf course, believe it or not, before Mr. Carr stepped in and converted it,” Frost told the men at they wandered around the enormous room looking at the huge drawings of wildlife on the walls.

“This is nice,” Todd stated. “Pen and ink?”

“Umm, no... that one...” Frost walked toward the artwork to which Todd was referring and examined the reference card next to it on the wall. “This one is just charcoal pencil.”

“Wow, that’s really nice work there,” Todd stated as he continued to look at some of the other framed art lining the wall while Blake walked to the back of the room toward the hallway where Joker’s office was located. “And what is your role here?”

“I am the Director of Operations for Mr. Carr,” Frost explained. “It’s a nice title but I’m certainly not in it for the money, of which there is practically none. You know... non-profits... sometimes they can barely keep the lights on.”

“Well, you seem to be doing pretty well here,” Todd remarked as he looked around at the lavish décor.

“I suppose... I mean, we do have a pretty heavy-hitting donor base, which is nice. But that can always change in the blink of an eye. One day you care about conserving resources, the next you are investing in a pipeline. It’s all about keeping our donors engaged and interested,” Frost told the men.

“So, tell me, Mr. Wilson,” Todd asked after a few moments of silence, “How long have you known Ms. Crane?”

“Oh,” Frost chuckled, “Well, to be totally honest with you, I have not known her for very long at all. I guess I was thinking with my _other brain_ when I decided to lend her the company car.” Frost guffawed at his statement. He had shared a few glances with the woman and hoped maybe something more could develop between them.

“Hm, yeah, I suppose so,” Todd said as he inspected the room. “But I am hoping that maybe you can elucidate this for me. Why would someone assault a woman but not take anything from her? Why take the keys but not take the car? Her purse was still there with her wallet and credit cards...”

“I really don’t know officer... why do people commit terrible crimes like that to begin with? I really don’t understand it,” Frost responded as innocently as he could.

Todd continued with a few mostly rhetorical questions that Frost could not answer as Blake stepped into Joker’s large and light-filled office. It was very neat and tidy. A giant window was located centrally on the wall far behind the huge mahogany desk with a big black leather chair tucked underneath. The floor was hardwood with a large area rug decorated with an interesting muted design. There was a couch close to him along with two armchairs and a bookshelf. Blake looked at a few of the books—some on the history of Gotham, some on the subject of architecture, but most of them being books related to nature and wildlife.

Blake continued making his way around the room when he encountered a box with a closed lid on the couch. He paused and listened to the men’s conversation in the reception area to ensure that Todd was still engaged in speaking with the man he knew as Mr. Wilson. Blake lifted the box lid and saw a pile of scholarly journals: _Journal of Psychology, Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, Journal of Counseling Psychology._ Built like large bound magazines—or almost books—there was no address listed. Blake dug through the box and found one journal still in its plastic wrap, replete with address, which said HQ, c/o Joseph Carr Wildlife Sanctuary, Rye, NY 10580.

“Headquarters,” Blake said aloud softly as he could hear the men speaking in the other room. Still, Blake wondered why the headquarters of a wildlife sanctuary would be so interested in topics related to psychology.

Joker stood on the other side of the hidden panel wall as he watched Officer Blake on a monitor in his inner office. He had his gun trained on the man’s body as he watched him snoop through the room. Joker steadied his breathing as Blake was now exactly on the other side of the wall from him. All the man needed to do was to press on the wall from the main office side and it would reveal the Joker standing with a gun aimed at his face.

“Do it, do it...” Joker said in a mere whisper.

Blake stopped in his tracks. _Did I hear something?_ He asked himself as he paused and listened for any sound. Joker stretched out his arm and gently placed the tip of his weapon on the wall. All it would take would be one pull of the trigger and the man’s brain would bedeck Joker’s office in a spray of crimson. One pull is all it would take...

Suddenly, Blake turned around and left the office, satisfied that nothing seemed to be incredibly amiss. Plus, he knew that he was not allowed to do an illegal search without a warrant, and, beyond that, there was nothing that justified even _issuing_ a warrant. It seemed to be a normal place of business for some folks who were really interested in wildlife conservation and maybe modern psychology—not to mention an employee who sometimes thought a little too much with his dick when it came to beautiful women. He rejoined his partner as he finished up his questioning.

“Well, Mr. Wilson, I’m truly sorry to bug you. We just have to follow all of our leads, you know,” Todd explained to the bearded man.

“I totally understand and I really do appreciate the work you do. Please let me know if there is anything else I can possibly do for you,” Frost said, his words full of sincerity and warmth.

“Will do. Here... take my card just in case you think of anything,” Todd said as he handed Frost a business card. “Thanks for your time, Mr. Wilson.”

The men headed down the front steps of the building to their car and left—hopefully the last time Frost and Joker would ever have to deal with them.

“That Wilson... I feel bad for him,” Todd said as he exited out a separate driveway with a gate that opened up for him automatically as he approached.

“Oh? Why’s that?” Blake asked.

“Ah, well, he said his wife died of cancer some time ago—brain cancer, the same that my mom had,” Todd explained sympathetically. “And now this is the first woman he decides to date since her passing and she is assaulted. He’s really beating himself up over it. That’s rough.”

“Yeah, for sure,” Blake agreed. “So, you think we’ll just have to close this one out?”

“I think so... Unless, hey, did you find anything when you were snoopin’ around?” Todd asked as he left the grounds.

“Ehh, not really. Everything looked totally normal except for a box full of psychology journals.”

“Like, someone’s handwritten journals?” Todd asked.

“No, no, no... I mean, like, legitimate scholarly journals,” Blake said. “Like big bound magazines. They’re usually used by professionals in the field... I remember when my sister was in grad school, she kept having these huge science journals sent to the house and the mailman couldn’t get them to fit in the mailbox. She’d get pissed because they were all bent out of shape and then my mom would tell her that she had the option to _not_ use her address... It was kinda funny, actually.”

“I see. I wonder why Joseph Carr is signing up for all of these professional psychology journals, then,” Todd mused.

“It was addressed to ‘HQ care of Joseph Carr Wildlife Sanctuary,’” Blake told him.

“HQ... I guess headquarters, right?”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Blake replied. “Anyway, other than that nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary.”

“Yeah, agreed. I guess my radar was just set to being too sensitive,” Todd chuckled. “All right, we’ll head back, grab a coffee—”

“And a pretzel,” Blake interrupted.

“Okay... _and_ a pretzel from, uh...” Todd snapped his fingers in the air trying to think of the name.

“Max’s on Seventh... he has the best. They’re never too hard on the outside,” Blake said.

“Sounds like a plan, my man! Get coffee and pretzels, tell sarge we’re done chasing our tails on this, and head out for a day on the street,” Todd replied with some excitement in his voice. He loved being a cop and he was happy to have a partner who had the same mindset and attitude that he did. They made a good team and he knew that Blake felt the same way.

*****


	11. Chapter 11

Time seemed to have no meaning for Harleen anymore.

She had no indication of night and day. It felt like it had been at least a week—maybe more. Her stomach hurt immensely from the lack of a healthy diet. A fan turned overhead making a dreadful noise that drowned out any sound of the outside world. There were no windows—only darkness punctuated with a flood of horrific orange light. She thought she was losing her mind having no one to talk to but her inner self. Should she stay strong or just give in? Should she hold out hope for a rescue? Should she risk her life and try to escape when the opportunity presented itself?

She sat on the floor like an animal in her once bright aqua but now filthy, gray dress. She had access to water, which helped her maintain some semblance of hygiene, but the shower didn’t work so she had to use the sink. There was no soap and no towel—she had to use her dress to dry herself. _At least the asshole gave me toilet paper,_ she thought to herself.

Her sleep pattern was completely erratic. Sometimes she might sleep for what felt like a few hours and then other times she wasn’t even sure if she were asleep or not. The darkness in the room made her feel like she was completely blind, which interrupted her daily circadian cycle. She was also expecting her period soon—if she were indeed _not_ pregnant—and she was not sure how well the mess of that that would go over with Nick.

Nick barged in just as she was falling asleep and insisted on giving her a syringe full of medication. At this point, Harleen was never sure if it were the treatment or the antidote, so she never struggled. She didn’t have the energy to struggle. Nick helped her into the wheelchair and zip-tied her wrists to the armrests. He pushed her out again to the room with the table where she had been many times already to take part in his experimentation.

He pulled out a vial and plunged a syringe into it, slowly pulling the fluid up into the clear tube. Then, leaning over, he injected Harleen in the back of her hand as he had done so many times before. If she had the wherewithal, she would have kept track of all of the injections as he seemed to give her one injection from that vial once per day. Maybe seven times? Maybe ten times? Maybe fifteen? She just couldn’t be sure.

“Oh Harleen, I simply cannot _wait_ to tell you about my plan!” Nick squealed with excitement. “You’re gonna love it!”

“Are... y-you... going to let me go, Nick?” she asked in a small voice.

“Hmm... no,” he responded curtly. “No, peaches, I just don’t see that happening. You see, I went through _far_ too much trouble to find you. Did I tell you this story?”

Harleen shook her head back and forth with a sickened look on her face. _My life is a story now?_

“Oh, goodie... Well, you see... I know certain things about Jackie that he doesn’t know that I know. I just happen to know them!” he chortled as he spoke with his ever-present slur. “I know that he lost his family when he was just eight years old... Oh, what a tragedy for poor Jackie. Did he tell you that they died in a car accident and it was all _his_ fault?” Nick paused and waited for an answer from Harleen as he was apt to do. “Well?”

“Yes, I knew that his family died in an accident, but I don’t know anything about it,” she responded, her voice soft.

“I see... He didn’t want you to know that, I guess. Well, anyway, they died in late August, and I just happened to know where they were buried! St. Francis Cemetery—but you knew that already. So—and you’re going to _love_ this—I found their plots at the cemetery in advance... So... are you following me Harleen?”

She shook her head up and down and let out a whisper to confirm that she heard him.

“So... I staked out the cemetery for that whole week, just in case he was late or early—and boy was I glad because he was one day late,” Nick giggled in his excitement to tell Harleen his story. “I was dressed as the lawn care guy! Did you see me?”

“What? N-no... I didn’t see you,” she responded.

“No, of course you didn’t, you fucking bitch, because you were so focused on your precious ‘J’ that you didn’t even look around yourself. I watched as your fat ass driver pulled up and Jack got out of the car lookin’ all smooth like he thinks he’s part of the Rat Pack or something. I saw you get out and touch his shoulder but he told you to just stay behind. I mean, I thought that I was going to just go after Jackie, but when I saw that... Ooh whee! I knew I would be able to really hit the man where it would hurt!”

He paused his story to noisily finish off a soft drink before Harleen’s eyes. It looked so delicious to her and she would do practically anything to taste real food other than pretzels, bread, water, and the occasional orange.

“Anyway, so where was I... Ah yes, so the fucking fat ass driver gets out of the car and stands facing the opposite direction, his face in his phone and a cigarette in his mouth. So I grab my wheelbarrow and just walk past the car. I’m just doing my lawn care job, you know. Anyway, I found these little trackers that you can buy online—expensive little fuckers—but they are well worth it. I stuck one in the wheel well of the fancy car and I used it to follow you for weeks. Until someone realized it was there and threw it into the East River. But I had all of the information I needed... I knew about the club... I knew about you. All I had to do was follow.”

Harleen stared at the man whose capacity to plan clearly rivaled Joker’s. She looked down at her restrained hands and realized that he never tied up her feet. But she realized that even if she could summon the energy to kick him, she would still be stuck in the chair. She was helpless and he knew it.

“Oh! And then!” he exclaimed. “And then we met a few more times! You see, I would watch you go in and out of the club. So, so stupid, Dr. Quinzel. You never know who is watching...”

He paused as he picked up a scalpel on a nearby tray and examined his face in it. His hair was dark brown and almost shoulder-length and his eyes were a piercing blue like Joker’s. When he was excited or upset, the vein in the center of his forehead would puff out and his face would turn pink. If Harleen had never met him before she would have thought he was a fairly handsome man—other than the fact that he was completely unhinged.

He pulled his mouth into a winning smile and turned to her. “Do you remember our time in the alleyway?”

Harleen swallowed and thought back to her near sexual assault just over a month ago. “Yes, I remember,” she told him.

“Good... remember when I grabbed your purse? Yeah?” he asked smiling at her. “I put a tracking device in that thing too. It’s how I knew to follow you and your friend Vanessa all through town... God! It just feels good telling you that!”

Harleen had thought about Vanessa often but never had the lucidity to ask until now. “Nick, what did you do to Vanessa? Please tell me she is okay.”

“Hmph,” he responded, “Vanessa is nothing. What, she teaches at a private school on the Upper West Side. Who gives a shit about Vanessa?”

“I do...” Harleen managed to state. “I care about her... You said ‘teaches.’ Present tense... Does that mean she is okay?”

Nick looked down at his tray and smirked. “Well, I’ll give you that Harleen Quinzel... good catch. I left Vanessa in the parking garage with a nice bruise on her face. I didn't have room in my van for two of you. I guess she might be alive.”

Harleen breathed a shaky sigh of relief and closed her eyes.

“God, don’t breathe on me,” Nick yelled at her. “Your breath is _terrible_.”

Harleen’s eyes sprung to life as she focused on her captor. “Well, if you would feed me regularly and give me the ability to clean up properly—like soap, towels, a toothbrush, toothpaste, that kind of stuff—then maybe I wouldn’t be so repugnant!”

“We’ll see...” he said, his voice trailing off.

“Also,” she said, feeding off of the confidence that she had built up, “if I’m not pregnant, then I’m going to get my period soon. Things could get messy, especially if you don’t give me anything to clean up with.”

Nick stood up from his chair and ignored her statement. He grabbed the laptop and placed it on a cart, pulling it in front of her.

“I have a few more videos that I want to show you... I think you’d like to see them,” he stated as he navigated through his files.

“Speaking of which,” she continued on her tirade, “I’m wearing contact lenses and I have never had them in for more than a day or two straight, much less however long I’ve been wearing them. If you want me to see these videos of yours, I suggest that you get me some kind of saline so I can clean them.”

Nick again ignored her request as he searched for a video, turning the cart toward her as he selected his next video. In the split second before he clicked on the video, Harleen saw the date in the bottom right corner of his screen. It was Sunday, the 5th of November, a full week and a day since she had gone missing.

Her stomach began to ache as she thought about the fact that she had been held captive now for eight days. She began to retch and leaned to the side where she could throw up onto the floor.

“Oh, god damn it, Harleen!” Nick yelled at her as she heaved over the arm of her chair.

Harleen sat back in her chair and continued to feel woozy as the video played. Stomach acid and spit bubbled on her lips as she watched the scene unfold before her. It was twenty-something Jack sitting with Jessica on a piano bench as the cameraman came up behind them.

“Nicky!” Jack yelled to him. “Okay, c’mere, you gotta get this! This is what we call a duet.”

Jack began to play several chords in succession, setting the tempo for the song. Jessica jumped and very shakily began to play the melody, which, despite a few bum notes, was easily identifiable as _Bohemian Rhapsody_. Jack continued to keep tempo as he encouraged Jessica to continue after stopping momentarily.

“You got this Jess, you got this!” Jack said to her as he kept time like a concert pianist. Meanwhile, Jessica was looking back and forth between her fingers and the sheet music above, usually fumbling a note or two but attempting to maintain a semblance of the song.

Finally, Jessica ended the verse and she smashed her fingers all at once on the keys, causing Jack to laugh.

“Not bad, babe, we just need more practice,” he said, bumping his shoulder playfully into hers. She laughed out loud and bumped him back before turning to tickle his side. Jack let out a gleeful howl—one that Harleen herself recognized. She had heard it many times, the most particularly memorable one being the first time she jumped into his swimming pool with him. He was so happy and carefree—part of his personality that she never once expected him to exhibit. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched the pair interact.

“Why are you smiling?” Nick asked with a perplexed look on his face.

“Because it makes me happy,” she responded tersely.

“Okay, fine. Then maybe you’d like to see this one, huh?” he asked with a frustrated annoyance as he pressed play on the video.

The video immediately began amidst the sounds of a couple making love interposed with the sound of fabric and wind. The view was the night sky and then the side of a building until, finally, the camera stabilized and faced into a large, dimly lit bedroom. There was a woman moaning loudly and she was clearly sitting on top of a man whose hands were holding her hips in place as she rolled herself on his pelvis.

“Oh god, Jack,” Jessica moaned as she said something else that was inaudible to which the man responded with words that sounded like _I love you_.

The moaning grew louder and the camera zoomed in on the couple, stopping to provide a somewhat grainy image of a woman rocking her body while gathering her long, dark hair from her shoulders and holding it on top of her head.

The camera remained focused on Jessica as she moved her body on top of Jack’s, nearly a minute passing. She reached her left hand down to touch Jack’s hand on her waist and his heavy breathing could be discerned amidst the ambient noise. The camera zoomed out as Jessica screamed out in immense pleasure and leaned forward onto Jack who grunted in the most familiar way.

Harleen watched as the pair held each close while Jack stroked down Jessica’s back. The camera was pulled away from the window and captured the clear night sky again before being shut off.

“So... What did you think?” Nick asked, surveying the emotion on Harleen’s face.

“What do I _think_? Are you serious? I think you’re a sick fucking pervert... That’s what I think,” she responded, her voice gaining strength as she spoke.

Nick didn’t react to her accusation. He stood up and slowly ambled to the table, searching the surface for something. Soon he returned to Harleen with a pair of scissors in his hand. Harleen’s heart started to race as he reached toward her with the open scissors for fear that he would cut her face or another part of her body. He grabbed a thick lock of hair on the side of her head and chopped it off close to her scalp leaving her hair mangled in an odd way.

He walked away with the long blonde strands in his fingers and found a large brown envelope on the table. Putting the envelope on a clipboard, he thrust it in Harleen’s face.

“I want you to write Club Aura’s address on this envelope. Address it to... Mr. J,” Nick said thoughtfully. “No, wait! Address it to Jackie. Attention Jackie, Club Aura. You know the rest.” He threw a pen into her lap along with the clipboard before grabbing the scissors to cut the zip tie on her right hand.

Harleen addressed the envelope as best as she could while Nick yelled at her to mind her penmanship. He ripped it out of her grip when she was finished and threw the lock of hair inside.

“Oh, almost forgot,” he said. “I wanna send this, too.” He grabbed an old photo album from the table and opened it, searching through the photos inside. “Oh, you need to see this one at some point, it’s a real keeper,” he said as he turned the page. “But... wait... ah, here it is. Look at this beautiful little boy.”

He removed the photo from the album and held it up for Harleen to view for only a few seconds. It was a picture of a little boy—no older than seven or eight—standing in front of a big brick house. He was wearing a dark blue uniform with a tie and a jacket as he smiled widely. He held a piece of paper out in front of himself, which stated that he had perfect attendance for the second marking period of 1984 at Hawthorne Academy.

Harleen didn't get to study the photo well but she thought it could have been a young Jack. His face was sweet and round and his hair was fluffy—like practically every child growing up in the 80s. Before she could really understand what she was looking at, Nick pulled it from her view and placed it in the envelope. He pulled a few others out of the photo album and put them in the brown envelope without letting Harleen see.

“This... this will go into the mail soon,” Nick stated. “Just so Jackie knows that you’re still out there. I do want to keep him on the edge of his seat.”

*****

Nick wheeled Harleen back to her dungeon-like room and cut her loose from the chair, allowing her to stand up. She immediately felt ill and found her way to the toilet in the orange light where she threw up.

“If I _am_ pregnant... if this _is_ morning sickness,” she declared, “then you had better give me some accommodations. I need soap, towels, a toothbrush, toothpaste, saline solution, paper—”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first fucking time,” Nick said dismissively as he wheeled the chair out of the room and locked the door behind him.

Harleen did her best to wash up in complete darkness. She had no idea what she looked like but she knew that she felt awful. She stood in front of the sink and touched her abdomen. _What if I am pregnant? What if I am pregnant and I lose the baby? What if I am pregnant and I never get out of here? What if J never sees his baby?_

She moved to the wall opposite of the door where she had sat for eight days now. Her body was sore and stiff and she knew that she was losing weight—this fact compounded with a pregnancy would only result in even poorer health for her and the baby, she realized.

She thought about what Nick told her, how he had followed them using the cemetery as a starting point. Joker never said a word until after their visit as to why they were going. He had been so difficult with her and his men near the end of August and she didn’t know why. He was being extra tough on his men and even dismissive of Harleen, which upset her greatly.

Several days before the visit to the cemetery, Harleen arrived at the club wearing a super skimpy gold and black shimmering dress—one that Joker specifically picked out for her on a shopping trip in Europe. He had been distant for days and refused to come to bed with her. She just couldn’t understand why and she was deeply concerned that she had done something wrong.

Whether it was a dumb decision or not, she wanted to dance on a pole in the club with her sexy dress in front of men—lots of men. She wanted their eyes to ogle her curves. She wanted them to desire her body in a sexual way. She wanted them to become aroused watching her move. She wanted to get Joker's attention.

And get his attention she did.

As she danced against the pole, she gained her audience of watchful men. One palmed his crotch in the corner as she crouched down and slowly brought her bottom up against the pole, her back arched in the most pleasing way. She stood up and turned around, grinding against the metal with her pelvis and licking it as a man approached her.

“Hey _chica_ , how about a dance just for me, eh? I like your moves,” he told her as he smiled and lifted his chin up in her direction.

Suddenly, from seemingly out of nowhere, Joker stomped into the room with his gun drawn and aimed directly at the man propositioning Harleen. He stepped up to the man and pressed the gun into the tan skin of his forehead.

“H-h-hey man, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize this was your woman,” he said, the apologetic words tumbling out of his mouth and his hands up in surrender.

Joker glared over at Harleen who had a look of fear on her face.

“Get in there,” he told her, motioning for her to head into their private booth. Harleen quickly complied.

Joker leaned into man, twisting the gun in his forehead. “Get... out... of... my... face...” Joker said, his breath stinking of alcohol.

The man backed away slowly and into the hands of a friend who pulled him away from the green-haired madman as quickly as he could. It was the Joker’s club. Everyone knew not to lay eyes on his woman—everyone but apparently that man.

Joker holstered his weapon and followed after Harleen who was standing in the middle of their private booth.

“J, I’m sor—” she began to say as he grabbed her by the neck and pushed her against the wall opposite of the curtain. She was in shock at the act as he had never grabbed her throat in anger before. He looked at her and breathed in her face, which is when she realized that he was drunk.

Before she knew it, he removed his hand from her neck and ripped off her underwear, throwing them to the floor. In a split second his pants and boxers were at his ankles and he was pressing himself against her, his hands working to pull up her dress. He lifted her from the floor and pushed her against the wall, quickly entering her.

“You’re fucking wet,” he said in an accusatory tone as he thrust against her, pushing in deeper with each movement. “So your little stunt of dancing for the men made your pussy wet? Is this what you wanted that asshole to do to you? To fuck your wet pussy?”

“J... you’re drunk...” she tried to reason with him.

“I’m a grown man, I’m allowed to have a fucking drink once in a while without your permission,” he grunted his words, which were spoken with a mixture of anger and frustration. She could tell he was incredibly tense.

At that moment, Frost opened the door and stepped into the room, scanning the furniture until he saw the Joker’s pale, naked behind moving rhythmically against a somewhat struggling Harleen. He immediately turned and walked out of the room with his eyes wide and his eyebrows raised, informing all of his men not to approach.

Harleen began to feel guilt for her sexy dance. _Why did I do that?_ But she knew it was because she ultimately wanted the attention of Joker, which she now had. Her body relaxed and her hands grabbed onto his shoulders as he released them from the wall.

“Of course I didn’t want any of those men to fuck me. I want you to fuck me, J... only you. You’ve been so distant lately...”

“Stop... talking,” he said as he pushed against her, his breathing becoming raspy and loud.

His hand attempted to fondle a breast, but the sequined fabric was in his way. He pulled the bottom of her dress over her head in desperation, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead, and threw it to the floor. Other than her gold stiletto heels, Harleen was completely naked—just the way Joker wanted her.

His lips devoured her breasts as he continued to thrust against her. His movements were erratic and he sucked a little too hard on her sensitive nipples in his zeal. But she started to enjoy herself as his hands moved to squeeze her breasts and his mouth bit her neck. Her pulse quickened and her moans became audible, which she knew would only serve to help him complete.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned into her ear. “Fuck...” he said one last time before releasing inside of her and pushing hard against her body. As quickly as he had entered her, he pulled out and lowered her to the ground before leaning over to pull up his pants. She stood in front of him completely aroused and unfulfilled as he gave her naked body one last look before turning and walking straight into his office adjacent to the private booth.

 _So much for being private,_ Harleen thought as she momentarily stood naked against the wall while about ten pairs of eyes stared at her through the beaded curtain that only provided a thin veil of separation between their booth and the club floor. She picked up her clothes and scurried into the office behind Joker. She had never experienced an occasion where Joker fucked her and literally left the room. She felt awful and somewhat used.

She got dressed and used the private restroom in his office without saying a word to him. She knew he was under some sort of stress as it was uncharacteristic of him to get drunk, aim guns at customers, grab her by the throat, and fuck her against a wall in full view of a dozen people. She removed her shoes and laid down on one of the couches and fell asleep.

It wasn’t until days later that she realized why Joker was so high-strung over the past week. As they pulled up to the cemetery, she opened her door and stepped out but Joker told her to stay with the car as he waved a finger in her face. She watched him the whole time. He had one red rose hidden in his inside jacket pocket, which he placed on the ground.

Several nights later, they were quietly lying in bed together when he revealed to her that it had been the 32nd anniversary of his family’s death.

“I’m so sorry,” Harleen said as she grabbed his hand, his skin cold to the touch for being August. The windows were opened and a lovely warm breeze filled their bedroom.

Joker didn’t respond. He never did when it came to talking about his family. Other than the day that he explained everything to her, he had never mentioned anyone in his family again. _It must be hard to live with that pain,_ she thought to herself as she snuggled up to the man lying next to her in bed, his hands interlocked on his stomach. _I can’t even imagine what he has been through..._

*****


	12. Chapter 12

Joker sat in his office and stared out the large window behind his desk. It had been twelve days since Harleen had gone missing—twelve whole days in which he barely had any sleep. The human body needs sleep in order to reset and function properly, and, as far as anyone knew, the Joker was still a human.

His men followed every order they were given. Indeed, they were all concerned about Harleen’s well-being too. She was a kind and sweet person, always interested in what they had to say, always listening, always forcing them to reframe their thoughts and think of things differently. She was an asset to the entire crew and her absence was noticed, which made it very difficult for the men to approach Joker. Most of the time, they just steered clear of him in the club and they rarely made the trip out to the mansion—they hardly had time to do so anyway as Frost kept sending them on new and promising leads.

Joker knew Frost was doing all he could. He had an incredible computer system, but he also had an even better brain. Frost had many skills—skills that helped them make their billions, a fact Joker could not deny—and he got just about as much sleep as Joker trying to track down every shred of information he could think of.

Frost entered the room where Joker was seated, his only view of the man was the green hair poking above the high back of the chair. He debated on interrupting, especially if he were sleeping, which was a prime commodity these days.

“What... Jonny...” Joker said, his voice cold.

Frost jumped slightly, not realizing that he had been heard. He walked into the room with the aid of his custom-made cane that was given to him by Joker earlier in the year after his near-death experience. The lack of sleep and good nutrition was having a physical effect on his body, which caused the old gunshot wound in his thigh to ache. He was lucky enough to be able to walk at all without the aid of a cane, and, despite the pain, he still chalked it up to a complete victory. That was something Harleen had reminded him of—to stay positive despite the circumstances—and he could only hope that she was able to follow her own advice and stay alive.

“J... we need to talk,” Frost started as he sat down in a chair opposite of Joker’s desk. “I need to brainstorm with you... I need you to look at something. We’ve been cooped up in this god damn house for practically two weeks and we’re getting nowhere... I just...”

Joker stood up from his chair and approached the window, opening it. A seasonably chilly blast of November air filled the room as Joker’s slight frame stepped forward. Frost could tell that he had lost a little weight. He was certainly not eating as much as he should, nor was he exercising as he used to do with Harleen.

“There’s a man out there,” Joker stated ominously as he slowly pulled the gun from his holster and held it out straight. His hand shook as he carefully took aim.

Frost stood up from his chair and looked out onto the green yard adorned with golden leaves. The wind picked up momentarily and scattered leaves throughout the lawn. Other than a stand of small planters about one hundred feet away, there was nothing in the yard—at least not where Joker was pointing his weapon.

“There’s nothing there, J,” Frost observed. “Put the gun down.”

“Shhh... there he is... hiding behind the plants...”

“J, there is nothing behind the plants. Trust me. They’re not even big enough for someone to hide behind,” Frost reasoned with his clearly delusional and sleep-deprived friend.

Joker pulled the trigger on his gun despite Frost’s logic. _Bang, bang, bang_! The sound felt louder than ever before. _Bang, bang, bang_! Joker pulled the trigger until the 15 rounds were spent.

“There,” Frost said in a derisive tone, “Do you feel better now? You shot a planter. Once. Looks like you missed all of the other fourteen shots... I mean, did you even get the guy?”

“Yeah, I got him,” Joker said, putting the gun back into his holster and turning around to Frost.

“Jesus, J!” Frost exclaimed upon seeing his friend’s red eyes with dark circles set deep within his gaunt-looking face. “You look like fucking shit! You need to get some sleep. You’re hallucinating. Do you understand me? You’re hallucinating and that is not helping us find Harleen.”

Joker stared at his friend. The longest friend he had ever had and the truest. Even in his delirious state, he knew he could trust the man. They had been through a lot together—more than they would each possibly admit—and they shared a solid bond of respect like no other.

“J, sit down. No... here,” Frost said, directing him to the couch as he closed the giant window. “Lie down. Lie right here and just relax.” He crossed the room and pulled the box of journals from the couch, placing them on a nearby chair as Joker amazingly submitted to his request. “You need something to eat. I’ll grab something from the kitchen downstairs. Eggs? Do you want some eggs?”

Joker laid back and placed his feet on the far arm of the couch. He was tall and thin—thinner than normal—and he was too long to fit on the couch. He wore clothing that hearkened back to their days full of heists and robberies as opposed to the more classy suits and bowties that he had come to be known for. His black cargo pants contained pockets down his leg—pockets they had used to store all kinds of weapons: lock picks, knifes, guns, containers of chemicals...

 _Those were the days,_ Frost thought but he truly didn’t miss them. He didn’t miss the strife and the uncertainty and the action. Joker was the man of action and he always pulled Frost into being a big part of the activities, whereas all he wanted to do was to ensure that he could crack a lock or break into a computer system. But Frost was good at everything he set his mind to—a genius outpaced only by the Joker.

Frost looked at the man lying supine on the couch before him, the dirt and mud flaked from his boots and onto the clean fabric. He could see he was in physical pain, but it was the mental anguish that was most telling. Joker was strong and would never let anyone know his emotional state in a million years. He was good at upholding the façade of The Joker. But, behind closed doors, Joker was a man. A vulnerable man.

“Are we going to find her, Jonny?” Joker asked simply, his voice hoarse.

“We have to, J,” Frost responded.

“I... made a vow to myself that I would never let this happen again...” he said.

“You mean Harleen being kidnapped again?” Frost asked. “I know what you mean...”

“No,” Joker corrected him. “I mean that I vowed that I would never love someone again. It’s too painful.”

“Oh... yes,” Frost responded quietly and knowingly.

Though always closely guarded, his friend had shared much with him over the years. He knew about his fiancée and their soon-to-be child—a son. Frost always found it interesting how Joker always broke promises to himself, especially around relationships. He vowed he would never love again after Jessica, and here he fell in love with Harleen. He vowed he would never team up with a partner—that he was a lone wolf—and here he worked with Frost for the better part of ten years. He vowed that he would never give one thought again to his family, yet every year he visited their gravesite. He vowed that he would never again have children of his own, but Frost could see in his eyes his desire to be a father and care for something other than just himself.

Frost could appreciate Joker’s position, but he knew deep down—beyond that façade of The Joker, beyond the portrayal of a madman, beyond the _mask_ and the _act_ —that Joker was still Jack Napier in many ways. He was a _man_ with emotions and a desire to be connected to others—connected only to a handful at that, but enough to demonstrate that he was still an emotional being. Frost could never know what was going on his friend’s head, but he knew that he was probably driven largely in part by guilt—guilt over his family, guilt over his fiancée, guilt over his unborn child, guilt over his business partner.

Frost had spent hours upon hours in the past pondering the complexities of his friend and he always landed on one thought that was so counter to the comedic mask that he wore:  His friend was very sad and believed that he was deserving of his sadness in a very self-destructive sense. It’s why he convinced himself he was a monster—and followed through with acting like one—and why he vowed he would never love again. However, those old vestiges of Jack Napier that he couldn’t suppress always shone through and Joker couldn’t help but accept them.

The air in the room was calm though still cold as Frost stared as his friend deep in thought.

“Tell me, Jonny,” Joker said. “What are you thinking?”

Frost snapped out of his trance and mentally changed gears. There was no way he was going to express his thoughts about Joker’s complex personality. He readied his mind to discuss Harleen’s whereabouts, as he intended to do so initially.

“Well, as you know, the Smilex LLC was a dead end. He wanted us to find that,” Frost said.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Joker said flatly.

“The man is clearly somewhere... but he’s not at his father’s estate. And nothing solid is coming up in my searches for anything similar to his name or Smilex or ACE or his father’s name or his mother’s name. I’m having the men check these places out and they’re all dead-ends... not even Harleen’s name or your name has come up,” Frost explained.

“You did check my name? My real name?” he asked.

“Of course... From what you describe, Nick is as ruthless as you are.”

“Nick... Nick was really good with the chemicals, I’ll give him that. I was better at the business... Nick understood _things..._ inanimate _things_... But he really knew how to push people's buttons and piss them off,” Joker explained. “It’s why I was the one to really operate the business side. I knew how to talk to people... at least back then I did. Nick just... he just didn’t care. Brilliant when it came to chemicals and biology and running experiments, but an asshole to people.”

Joker paused for a while and then sighed.

“I just didn’t see it coming... what happened to Jessica. If I’m so good at understanding people, you would think that I would have seen it coming. God, I was so fucking blind... I should have seen _this_ coming,” Joker practically growled the painful words.

“J... you can’t... you can’t do that,” Frost responded as if he were a therapist, one of the many hats he had worn over the past decade with his friend.

There was silence in the room again until Frost spoke.

“Did you know that in Delaware, you can establish a business under a fictitious name and you don’t even have to register the name? You can set up an LLC under... under your fucking cat’s name,” Frost told him.

Joker turned toward him, his red eyes narrowing on Frost. “Tell me you have found something.”

“No, not yet,” Frost said. “Of course it’s not easy to search, but I hacked their database this morning. I have it narrowed down to the companies that were established since the day Nick was released from prison. Do you know how many companies are established in Delaware in the span of just a few months? It’s a lot. Thousands... And depending on the name he used to establish it, we could be chasing this for while.”

Joker stared at the man. “I want to see the list. I might recognize something.”

“I know... that’s why I came up to see you. I need you to help me with this, but I need your head in the game,” Frost said, concern edging into his voice. “Can I please make you something to eat so you can concentrate?”

“No, show me the list right now,” Joker commanded as he stood up from the couch.

“Okay, we’ll go look, but if you start dozing off, I’m going to leave you be!” Frost said as he followed Joker out of the office in a rush.

*****

“Congratulations!” the crowd yelled out to the visibly pregnant woman who walked into the private room of the restaurant on the arm of a handsome man. It was Jack and Jessica.

Jessica stopped and leaned over in a peal of laughter as she pointed directly at the camera.

“Nicky!” she yelled and slid her feet over to him in a humorous attempt to run but not bounce her belly. Her gorgeous face came into the frame for a moment—her smile wide, her eyes brown, her skin olive in complexion. She looked like a goddess of the Mediterranean. “Gimme a hug, big boy!” she said as she clearly threw her arms around the man holding the camera.

The rest of the short video followed Jessica around the big room of approximately three or four dozen people as she greeted them and gave them hugs. A banner stating _Congratulations!_ hung on the wall and a cake and gifts were placed on the table.

The video ended and another one began as Harleen remained tied to her wheelchair. It was of the same event and the focus was yet again Jessica as she sat in a chair smiling at the camera.

“Did you take my picture yet?” she asked, her words coming out of her teeth like a ventriloquist. “Oh, you’re recording me? Haha, I thought you were taking my picture!” She laughed so hard that she snorted.

Everything about the woman was so pleasant, so disarming. Harleen thought that she would have made a really good friend as she watched her—always smiling, always in a good mood, always joking.

“Are you recording?” a familiar voice asked off camera.

“Yep,” Nick responded as he kept the camera focused on Jessica.

The man literally jumped into the frame and crouched down next to Jessica and kissed her pregnant belly. She was probably halfway through her pregnancy based on her size. “This is the future Mrs. Jessica Lynn Napier, JD,” Jack said proudly as he put his arms around his fiancée. “And this little guy in here is... well, we haven’t decided on a name yet.”

“There are too many good options,” Jessica explained with a smile as her hand found Jack’s dark hair, which she combed through with her long, slender fingers.

“Too many good options,” Jack repeated as he smiled and looked at her belly, pretending to bite it as he made a ridiculous gnawing sound. Jessica threw her head back in laughter as he continued. Finally, he stopped, his mouth open and resting against her bump and he lifted his eyebrows up and down. Nick laughed off camera at the episode and the video ended.

The video ended and another one began with Jessica’s voice asking Nick what he was doing there.

“Oh, not yet!” Nick told Harleen, recognizing the video as he reached to the computer to close the program. “That’s a special one for a special time... you’ll have the privilege of seeing that one later.”

He smiled at her as if she were a friend. He examined her greasy hair and her somewhat dirty face. She was not smiling back. She never smiled anymore—except perhaps while watching a video. She couldn’t help but smile when she saw Jack and Jessica on the screen. She was living their happy lives through their images caught on film. But her smiles always turned to tears, which is exactly what he wanted.

He looked down at her round breasts, now held inside a tight white tank top that he graciously provided to her. On her legs were a pair of dark blue track pants—the kind that made a swish noise when they moved and also those which provided nearly no insulation. _Better than no pants at all_ , Harleen had thought when he threw them in the room at her.  

He had complied with a few of her demands, particularly for clothing and better food. He now allowed her to graduate to eating bananas, grapes, and peanuts in addition to the bread, pretzels, and oranges he had been giving her. “Gotta keep you healthy for the baby,” he had told her when he threw a bunch of bananas into her room and closed the door. Harleen sarcastically thanked him after he left the room as if bananas were the panacea to her condition.

She also didn’t understand why he was somehow convinced—or possibly trying to convince her—that she was pregnant. Whether it was due to a disruption in her stress levels, the lack of regulation by her pill, or just that it was time, she knew the day she started to bleed. She decided not to tell him in the hopes the she could use the knowledge against him somehow.

Still, she could never figure out how she tested as pregnant... Did she miscarry? She could not be certain and she undoubtedly could not rule out it as a ruse by Nick.

Nick continued looking at Harleen as her arms and legs were tied to her chair. She was getting slightly stronger as a result of the new foods he had introduced to her diet. In his own twisted way, he was proud of the fact that he was making her feel better.

“How are you doing today, Harleen? Hm?” he asked, reaching his hand out and placing it on her knee. Until that point, there had been minimal physical contact between the two, much to Harleen’s relief. But now she watched as he slowly moved his hand farther up her inner thigh—almost reaching her crotch—when her body jerked backward in its seat.

“Th-the baby,” she said as she tried to pull her hips away in order to keep him from going any farther. “We have to be careful about the baby.”

A moment of realization seemed to flicker across Nick’s face, his blue eyes registering what she had said. “Yes, you’re right,” he told her. “Gotta keep him protected. It’s a boy, you know.”

“No... I didn’t know,” Harleen stated as she watched him pull his hand back and rest it on her knee again.

Nick moved his rolling chair closer to her and pushed the nearby cart out of the way so he was directly in front of her.

“He sure won’t be lacking when it comes to nutrition...” he said as his hand now reached out to touch her breast. He pulled the stretchy neckline of the tank top down and he reached in to fondle her, with only the thin satin fabric of her bra between then.

“But... the baby,” Harleen said again, trying to use the same argument as before.

“Oh, the baby ain’t gonna need these for some time, peaches,” he stated as stared at her chest with a sinister look on his face. He reached up and pulled both the black satin strap of her bra and the white cotton strap of her tank top down her arm, slowly revealing more and more skin of her breast. He caressed it gently and removed the remaining fabric until he revealed her nipple, which he rolled between his thumb and forefinger as he let out a disturbing groan.

_Oh god, please, J, where are you? Please save me, please save me._

Harleen looked away as the man’s face drew into her frame, pleased that his touch had caused her nipple to harden. His warm lips met her breast and he began to suck. Harleen could not help her physiological response as the movement on her sensitive skin immediately caused goose bumps. She cursed herself as she felt the blood rush to her pelvis causing her to become aroused by the act.

“This is what it’s going to feel like,” he said, pulling his lips from her flesh. “When your baby feeds. I bet it feels good,” he informed her. “Doesn’t it feel good?” he then asked, looking up at her face.

The answer was yes. Yes, it did feel good. Touch feels good—it’s a result of being a human and having nerve endings. Harleen thought of the time she worked with rape victims who felt extreme guilt about getting aroused and wet during the rape. It’s a natural physiological response, she remembered telling them—and, more importantly, it’s a mechanism to protect the female body from damage. But here, in this moment, she had a hard time accepting that fact. Yes, it felt good, but she still wanted to cut out the man’s heart and stomp on it.

He stopped sucking as he waited for her answer. He _always_ got an answer. But Harleen knew the damage if she told him either yes or no, so she closed her eyes instead. She closed her eyes and floated away to a time in the summer when Joker taught her how to fight.

*****

“Watch my legs, okay? Just watch... see how I’m standing sideways? You need to make sure one leg is in front of the other,” Joker said, showing her his stance. “If you keep your weight on your back leg and keep your knees slightly bent, you’ll be harder to knock over... Here try it. Try knocking me over.”

Harleen threw a weak punch at his chest.

“No, no, no... Here, just try to push my chest. Try to push me onto my back,” he told her.

She pushed on his chest but his body stayed firmly in place.

“See, you might push me a little bit, my center of gravity is low because my legs are wide and my dominant leg is taking any weight you push on me.” He paused for a moment and looked at the woman before him. “Okay, to really bring this point home, I’ll show you what happens if you don’t stand like that.” He stood up straight and faced her head-on. “Now try pushing me over...”

Harleen laughed and pushed on his chest, causing him to stumble backward on the thick floor mat. She then approached him and continued to laugh as a ploy to disarm him, before quickly dropping to the ground and sweeping her leg behind his knee, effectively knocking him down.

Joker fell with a surprised thump onto the soft floor beneath his back. He laughed heartily as he looked up to see Harleen standing at his side looking down at him with a proud smile on her face. She reached down and offered him a hand as Joker grabbed her legs and toppled her over, accompanied by a loud squeal and an eruption of giggles from the woman.  

This time, Harleen fell to the ground with a thud as Joker quickly rolled onto his hands and knees and crawled on top of her. She attempted to use her strength to push him off, but he was too heavy. However, she was small and squirrelly and easily wiggled her legs out from beneath his.

He was above her on his hands and knees holding her wrists in place as her now free legs found their way to his pelvis where she pushed her toes into the spot between his hip and leg, which she _knew_ was the most ticklish spot on his body. He immediately let go of her hands and rolled away with a screech.

Harleen stood up and crossed her arms as Joker laid on his back smiling. “The Joker... taken down by the tickles,” she announced. “I could sell that information, you know.”

“Don’t you _dare_!” Joker playfully yelled as he turned on his side and lunged for her legs, bringing her down to the floor again. Holding her legs in place, he crawled up her body and simply laid down on top of her. “Mmm... what a comfortable bed I’ve discovered,” he said as he put his full weight on her, forcing a groan out of her mouth.

“Ugh... you’re... too... heavy...” she said as she tried to squirm out from under him.

“Dr. Harleen Quinzel... taken down by a ticklish Joker,” he announced as his head pressed against her breasts. “Hmm... Me thinks Dr. Quinzel is ticklish, too!” he yelled as he began to tickle her side with his fingers as she squealed and thrashed about below him.

“No, no!” she yelled as he continued to torture her with his fingertips. She tried to wiggle her way out of his grip again but his body was too heavy and his hold was too strong. She summoneqd all of the strength she had to withstand his ticklish treatment by making her body go completely rigid. It was a trick she had learned growing up with a brother—make your body completely rigid and your brain focuses so much on keeping the muscles tense that it doesn’t really register the tickles.

“Oh no!” Joker said as he realized that his tickling was having no effect. “She’s not responding! Is there a doctor in the house?” he asked the room containing only the two of them, both of whom happened to hold doctorates.

“Oh, I’m a doctor!” he answered his own question out of the side of his mouth.

“Doctor, please help this woman. She seems to have become frozen!” he told himself.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“I don’t know, you’re the doctor!”

“Hm... you’re right, she does appear to be frozen,” he said, lifting an arm from her side and letting it drop lifelessly onto the mat.

“This looks serious, doc.”

“Huh, you’re telling _me!_ ” he cackled into the big room.

“Wait! I know what to do!”

“What’s that?”

Joker pretended to have an agreeable conversation in his head with himself to which he responded, “Good idea!” He then dove into Harleen’s neck and began to bite and slobber all over her skin which caused her to erupt with laughter.

“Stop!” she shrieked while continuing to laugh. “Stop!”

“What’s the magic word?” Joker asked as he nibbled on her collarbone.

“Pretty...” Harleen managed to get out through a torrent of laughter as he resumed slobbering on her neck.

“Pretty what?” he asked as he slowed down his tongue and moved his mouth to her earlobe where he began to suck.

“Mmm... well, now I’m not going to say it because I don’t want you to stop,” she responded with a big smile.

“I see... So I guess we’re done with our lesson?” he asked as he pushed his lower half into her pelvis.

“I guess so... maybe we can move on to a session of something else,” she replied.

“Hm, I like this idea,” he said as he leaned in to kiss her. “I like it a lot...”

*****


	13. Chapter 13

Frost and Joker spent hours poring over the new leads, which consisted of company names, their member managers, and company addresses. Nothing jumped out at them—none of the names and none of the addresses—and both of their eyes became tired examining the list of over 4,000 entries, resulting in Joker falling asleep on the couch in Frost’s office and snoring loudly with a printout on his face. Frost left him there as he promised he would since he knew the man simply needed some rest.

He wandered over to the bar in the basement which was much smaller than the large one up on the first level, but Frost was happy to just find some good beers stocked in the fridge. After all that had happened over the past twelve days, maybe a nice cold one would jump start his brain—or so he hoped. He sat down at one of the tables and leaned back, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He hadn’t kept his beard trim as usual and it was getting a little bushy at this point, but he decided that he kind of liked it.

He relaxed for a few minutes as he nursed his beer when his phone buzzed. It was Miles.

“Frost,” he said into the phone.

“Hey, uh, is boss around? Because we got something here,” Miles said.

Frost sat straight up in his seat. “What is it?”

“Well, it’s a big envelope. It’s addressed in Harleen’s handwriting. There are a bunch of old photos—nothing of Harleen—and... and a lock of blonde hair that I’m assuming is Harleen’s,” he told him.

“Anything inside that would suggest that she’s still alive? Did she write on anything inside?”

“No, nothing, but the post date is November 7th.”

“What the zip code?” Frost asked.

“It’s the same as Club Aura,” Miles told him.

“Shit... Okay... Hang onto it. Don’t let anyone else look at it, okay? I’ll let him know,” Frost said as they ended the call.

“Let me know what?” Joker asked as he stumbled into the bar area, his printouts in-hand.

“That was Miles... he’s at the club and he said that they got an envelope in the mail addressed in Harleen’s handwriting. There are a bunch of photos inside... and a lock of her hair,” Frost said, taking a swig from his bottle.

Joker’s heart made a small leap. “And the post date?”

“Two days ago...” Frost stated.

“Let’s go,” Joker said, leaving the room.

“What, right now?” Frost yelled out to Joker as he headed down the opulent hallway toward the rear doors.

“Yes, it’s a lead, I want to go see it.”

“All right, as you wish,” Frost replied quietly and chugged down the rest of his beer.

*****

The two men arrived at the club through the back entrance and walked into the rear office where the envelope was waiting.

Frost stood next to the desk as Joker sat down in his chair and picked up the envelope.

“It’s a little shaky, but it’s definitely Harleen’s handwriting,” Joker declared with certainty.

“It’s addressed to ‘Jackie,’” Frost said.

Joker looked up at him. “It’s a psychological thing. That’s what Nick always used to call me. It’s also sent from this zip code, so this fucker is either here or came here to mail the letter.”

Frost shook his head in acknowledgment as Joker dumped the contents out onto the desk. A thick lock of Harleen’s long hair was tied with a rubber band at one end. Joker extracted it from the tall envelope and held it in his hand. He placed it down carefully on the surface of the desk and began to gather the only other items in the envelope—old photos.

Joker flipped through them all—over a dozen in total—and realized that they were all photos from his childhood that he had never seen before in his life. A photo of him with his brothers and sister. A photo of his mother and father. A photo of his father and uncle and their newborns on their knees. A photo of a tall man in a suit and hat. A photo of him standing outside of his house on Yardley Street in a school uniform. A photo of him standing on the patio performing a magic trick for his father and uncle. A photo of him and a young woman with dark hair...

Joker pushed his chair back and stood up, staring at the young woman in the photo. His heart raced.

Suddenly, he remembered. He remembered it all. Every last detail came flooding into his mind. He remembered what happened when he was a child.

He threw the photos and lock of hair back into the envelope and walked out of his office.

“J? J! Where are you going? Did you find something?!?” Frost called out to him as he followed Joker into the parking lot catching up to him near the vehicle. “J!”

Joker turned to him, his blue eyes on fire. “Let me be. I need time to think!” And, with that, he stepped into the SUV and drove away as Frost watched him leave.

*****

Joker pulled up to the pier parking lot not far from the club, put the vehicle in park, and turned off the ignition. He watched the seagulls fly around the empty pier on the cold November day for a few minutes while deep in thought before pulling the photos out of the envelope. He stared at them intently, each one telling a story about his past—an incredible story he thought he had forgotten...

*****


	14. Chapter 14

“And what grade will you be in this year, Jackie?” the tall man in the dark suit asked as he leaned forward with a grimace, bringing his face to the same level as the child in front of him.

Jack smiled widely—now sporting some teeth to fill the big gap that used to exist—and giggled. “I’ll be in third grade!”

“Wow, Jackie, third grade, already? Jesus, I remember holding you as a baby in my arms not too long ago,” the man said, a slight Scottish lilt to his voice.

“Dinner’s ready, Uncle Willie! C’mon, Jack, go wash your hands!” Jack’s mother yelled to the pair standing in the foyer of the big home.

William—or more commonly known as Uncle Willie by the children—winked at Jack as he ran down the hallway to wash up.

“You got a good kid there, Anne,” he told his sister-in-law as he strode into the kitchen. “Hm, whatever you have cooking smells real good. Rose is still learning how to not set the house on fire... I'm sure she could learn a few lessons from you." He paused as he picked up a dish towel and folded it neatly on the counter. "Anyway, thanks for having us over for dinner. I told her that all of us needed to get together for a real home-cooked meal since we didn't get a chance to interact much at the wedding.”

“I can’t believe it’s been over a month now since you’ve been married. How is married life treatin’ ya?” she asked, trying to keep the conversation light as she picked a large pot of mashed potatoes from the stove and walked it into the dining room where her four hungry children were waiting to devour them.

“It’s going all right,” he responded as she walked back into the kitchen, forcing a smile on his unusually aged face for a man in his mid-forties. He pushed a hand through his dark brown hair, his widow’s peak prominent due to slight balding along his temple, and he let out an awkward chuckle as Anne moved around the kitchen. “Where is the ole ball and chain anyway?”

Anne untied her apron and lifted her chin toward the window above the sink. “They’re both out there smoking. Our new rule is that Robbie can’t smoke in the house. I just can’t take it anymore.”

“Ha, good luck with that one,” William replied as he navigated toward the back door and let himself out. He could be heard yelling that dinner was ready as the door closed behind him.

*****

“Oh, Anne, that roast was absolutely delicious,” Robert told his wife, reaching out to place his hand on hers.

The children usually protested when their parents displayed any amount of public affection—or even affection within their own home—but they were quiet this time, too full to object. Robert looked into Anne’s eyes and smiled, knowing that he had found his true love and that they had created the perfect family with the perfect home. 

He looked around the table at his four children, his brother William and his wife Rose, and then back to Anne. He thought about how so much in his life rested on decisions that had been made for him and he knew he needed make things right.

Robert and his brother William immigrated to the United States from Scotland with their parents in the early 1950s after leaving behind a world of heartache in their homeland. Their parents, Alistair and Catherine, had lost several of their children to illnesses, all of which would have been easily treatable or even curable within mere decades.

It was a tough road—their new American life promised riches galore but did not deliver. William, the older of the two by six years, was forced to leave school in the ninth grade in order to help their parents run a corner store near their home in Queens. Robert, on the other hand, had the luxury of graduating from high school—an achievement of which his parents were incredibly proud and one of which William was secretly jealous. Much to their misfortune, their mother had died due to an unexplained illness soon after Robert’s graduation while their father Alistair had been able to hold on for almost a decade longer.

While William secretly despised his brother for being able to have the typical American experience—going to school, meeting girls, attending dances—he delighted in the fact that Robert was chosen to be drafted for the Vietnam War in 1969 at the pivotal age of 20. William, age 26 at the time, rejoiced in the fact that he was able to avoid the draft since his birth year fell just outside of the draft board’s window.

While Robert tended to walk the straight and narrow and tried to avoid trouble at all costs, William invited it. He reveled in it. In his early 20s, he found himself involved in some unsavory business transactions—losing money on illegal gambling mostly—and he became drawn into that world. He would never admit it to any person other than Robert, but he ultimately found himself working as a “private security guard” for the Westies—also known as the Irish mafia—in Hell’s Kitchen. He was a hitman.

As soon as Robert returned from the war after two years of service, William quickly introduced him to his salacious business activities. The family business of running the corner store was in decline, but William had started to make enough money to support the family on his own. Over the years, his ill-gotten gains went to support his father, a total of five wives, with Rose being the most recent to take up the mantle, and just one child—a son who was scurried away to California by his second wife to protect him from William's abusive ways.

Robert was very hesitant and cautious of taking up his brother’s offer at first, instead preferring to earn a living doing something that he could be proud of, maybe even returning to school for a business degree while continuing to operate the corner store. But within years of marrying his high school sweetheart and having children of his own, Robert unfortunately realized that his only viable option was to join forces with his brother and work for him full-time if he wanted to be able to truly provide a good life for his growing family. Robert soon found himself mired in a frightening world of guns, knifes, and credible threats to his life—not unlike his time spent on the front line in Vietnam.

After ten years of being involved in that activity, however, Robert found that it was taking a toll on his life. It was far too stressful and far too much to deal with mentally. But William... William thrived under the taste of power... with a loaded weapon in his hand... and a man begging for mercy under his tall, menacing shadow.

As much as Robert detested the vocation thrust upon him by his brother, he did very well for himself and his family. They now lived in a huge brick home on Yardley Street in Manhasset, one of the wealthiest neighborhoods on Long Island. Their children never had to worry about the things that Robert, William, and their parents worried about when they arrived in America thirty years prior: No empty bowls at dinnertime, no rodents sharing their living space, no worries about paying for a doctor, no educations cut short...

In fact, Robert and Anne had sent all of their children to the prestigious and private Hawthorne Academy and had established educational trust funds to finance their college education in the event that anything happened to their current wealth. The happy couple wanted nothing more than to provide their children the best in life—starting with a proper education.

The children were their proudest accomplishment—with no contest from their ill-gotten riches. Both having a proud Scottish ancestry, they easily arrived at choosing names for their children. Andrew was the oldest at age thirteen and was named for the patron saint of Scotland. He was certain to become an engineer of some sort and was one of the first in his school to own something called a computer—an unwieldy piece of electronic equipment that would soon take over the world. Alana was second-born at age twelve and was quite talented in music. Her parents believed she would travel the world with an orchestra, stealing the show as she so often did at her school recitals. Ethan was third in line at age ten and absolutely adored his father. He wanted to grow up to do whatever daddy did—security guard was all he was ever told—and he wanted to work by his side at all times.

As for their youngest child, Jack William Napier, he was quite the precocious one. He was quiet... always watching, always thinking, always biding his time until he could pounce—usually with his quick wit. Even at just eight years old, his parents could see that he was special with talents far beyond his years. His first name was taken out of reverence for Anne’s father and his middle name from Robert’s brother as an acknowledgment of respect. He had a vocabulary that belied his young age and was the most level-headed one of his friends and siblings. He loved to color and build elaborate toy brick houses and cars. But, most of all, he was fascinated with magic and comedy, proclaiming that he would someday become a famous actor.

Robert smiled again at Anne and squeezed her hand as he looked around the table at his beautiful family. He had made a decision and he knew he was doing the right thing.

*****

After dinner, William sat alone in a wrought iron chair on the patio behind his brother’s house as the shadows in front of him grew taller and taller. He knew something was up with Robert. He could read him better than anyone.

“Uncle Willie?” a small voice asked as William took a puff on his cigar. “Would you like to see some magic tricks?”

“Yeah, Jackie. Lay it on me. Show me what ya got,” William said to the young boy who placed a small black bag on a nearby chair and pulled out a deck of cards.

“Choose any card,” he said as he spread the cards into a big fan. “Now, hold onto it and don’t let me see it. I want you to memorize the card.” He spent some time shuffling and reshuffling the deck with his small hands. “Okay, did you memorize the card?”

“I did,” William said as he smiled, fully knowing how the trick worked. He placed it in the pile as Jack held it out.

“Here, I’ll let you cut the deck. You can do it twice,” Jack said as he handed the stack to his uncle who split the deck twice and returned the pile. “Okay...” Jack said as he turned the pile over and looked through the cards, “I see... Is this your card?”

William laughed and nodded as the young boy. “It is indeed, laddie. You’re not too bad at that.”

“Okay, well, watch this,” Jack stated as he put the deck of cards on the table and pulled out a pencil from his bag. “I’m going to shove this pencil up my nose and pull it out of my ear.”

“Oh boy, should I have your mom call an ambulance just in case?”

“Uh, no, silly... I’m a trained professional,” Jack giggled. He very carefully pushed the pencil into his nose—or so it seemed—while making a face full of pain, his blue eyes as big as saucers. Then he touched his nose and closed his eyes before shaking his head as if to get the pencil in place. He proceeded to pull the pencil out of his ear while showing great relief on his face and feigning pleasure from having such a horrible object stuck in his head.

“That was pretty good,” William responded with sincerity. “I can tell that you really practiced with that.”

At that moment, Robert stepped out onto the patio and lit up a cigarette. It was hot in the summer heat, causing perspiration to form on his forehead almost immediately.

“Hey, Jackie, mind if I talk with Uncle Willie for a bit?” he asked his son.

“Sure, but I just have one more trick to show him,” he replied, turning back to his uncle. He pulled a banana out of his bag and put it on the table as his dad walked around and took a seat. Then, pulling out his magic wand, he waved it in the air with a flourish and chanted, “Sugar and salt and chocolate and spices, cut this banana into some slices.”

The two men looked at each other after Jack spoke his incantation. “Is it supposed to turn into slices, son?” his dad asked.

“Uncle Willie, will you do the honors of peeling the banana?” Jack asked, barely able to hold his excitement as he stood clutching for dear life to his wand.

William looked at the banana—it was complete with no knife marks on the sides—and began to peel. He gasped as he pulled the skin down and slices of banana fell into his lap.

“How did you...” he began to say as he looked up at the boy who bowed in front of him.

“I’ll be here all night!” he exclaimed as the two men shook their heads at each other in astonishment.

“Nice work, kid,” William said. “You really got me thinkin’ on that one.” He inspected the banana peel but still could not see any cuts from the outside.

The back door opened and Rose stepped out with a camera in-hand. “Hey boys, look here!” she yelled to get their attention. “Say cheese!” A bright light flashed from the camera and she turned to head back inside.

“That Rose and her camera...” William remarked with annoyance as he rolled his eyes at Robert.

Robert ignored his statement and turned his attention to Jack. “Now, you get in there and show your Aunt Rosie some of those tricks, okay?” Robert told his son as he took a long drag on his cigarette. Rose was very young—just a few years out of high school—and the age difference between her and William was quite evident.

Jack shook his head up and down as he placed items from his magic kit back into his bag and followed Rose into the house.

“You got a good kid there,” William said as he knocked ashes from the end of his cigar onto the brick patio.

“I do... I really do...” Robert responded. He took a deep breath and paused for several moments before speaking again. “Will, I... I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

William’s nose twitched and his eyes narrowed as he counted the banana slices that lay before him on the table. “Robbie...”

“Just wait... there has got to be something better out there—even for you, Will. I have enough money now... I could still go back to school, get a degree, and support my family in an _honest_ way. Maybe we move out of this place. I don’t need all of this... stuff. Think of mum and dad, would they have wanted us to have _this_ level of wealth? They were simple people, Will.”

The air was silent between the two men as William decided how to respond.

“So what? You think you can just leave? Like that?” he asked, snapping his fingers at his last statement.

“Will... I can’t be part of this...” Robert said softly. “You... you shot that couple right in front of their little boy. I... I have nightmares about that.”

William took a long drag on his cigar as he stared into the darkening sky. Then, turning to Robert, he spoke quietly with fire in his words. “It’s what we do,” he said matter-of-factly. “You can’t just leave a _mob job_ and you know it. Unless you plan to turn evidence... Are you planning on doing that?” He turned and looked directly at his brother who fidgeted in his seat.

“No... No, of course not. I would never put you in harm’s way like that!” Robert practically exclaimed.

But it was a lie. He had already spoken with the police once and was planning to speak to the FBI. He couldn’t take it any more. He had done things that he couldn’t imagine doing—and his brother was ten times worse—a hundred times worse. William got off on the power. He genuinely enjoyed shoving a gun in someone’s face at any chance he could get. It was simply part of the job, especially since they had been security for some pretty heated deals between the Westies and the Italians.

Anne knew what her husband did, but she never knew details. It would kill her to know that he had held guns to old men’s faces, that his bloody knuckles were from beating someone nearly to death, that he had killed people in the name of money... He had always justified it to himself with the fact that his progeny would never have to live in that world—they would become educated, get married, have children, and have normal careers and normal lives. He wanted that so badly for his children, especially for Jack. He could never imagine sweet Jack ever knowing what his father did for a living, what it’s like to hold a gun, what it’s like to kill someone...

“Look, just give me some time, Robbie,” William retorted, his voice full of irritation. “Let’s figure this out.”

William extended the olive branch to his brother, but he knew he had turned already—he could just feel it. Robert was too happy with his life—with Anne, with his children—and he understood that the longer he played the game, the shorter the rope became. In some ways, William could understand—even appreciate—the situation Robert was in and how he felt his only exit strategy was to get immunity and turn everyone in.

William grinded his teeth together and fumed in a cloud of cigar smoke as the final rays of the mid-August sun bathed the leaves of the trees in a warm orange color. He worked so hard to get where he was. He sacrificed so much. He wasn’t about to let it disappear because his brother decided to finally grow a conscience.

“Well, I might go grab another slice of cake if there’s still any. You want some?” Robert asked, quickly changing the subject.

“No... we’ll be leaving soon anyway,” William said flatly, smashing the cigar on the table and throwing it out in the well-manicured lawn. If Robert were maddened by the act, he made no expression of it in his face. William stood up and followed him indoors knowing that he would have to take matters into his own hands.

*****

William pulled into his stately mansion in Oyster Bay, about thirty minutes from his brother’s home, while driving in complete silence the entire way.

“Sweetie,” Rose said, “You know you can talk to me.”

William was in no mood to be treated like a child—or at least that’s how he perceived his new wife’s simple attempt to be helpful. He got out of the car, manually lifted open the garage door, and returned to finish pulling in his silver Porsche. He lived in the lap of luxury and he absolutely _refused_ to let anyone take it away from him.

“Will?” Rose called as she stepped out of the car and followed him to the door which led into their gourmet kitchen. “Will, talk to me.”

Out of the blue, William turned around and slapped his wife across her face, the physical force of it making her fall to the floor. She held a hand up to the tender, reddening skin and looked up at her husband with tears in her eyes. She didn’t understand. They had only been married for a month and now _this_? She knew he had had four failed marriages—was this why?

“Don’t... nag... me... again,” William stated coldly as he looked down at her on the floor. “Do you understand?”

“Y-Yes...” Rose replied with fear and hesitation in her voice.

“Good, now get upstairs to the bedroom. Now,” he commanded to her.

Rose had started to detect cracks in their young marriage almost immediately. They had only been married for a month and, before that, they had only known each other for maybe a year, with a short engagement of four months prior to their July wedding.

Rose was a young woman at only 21 years old—more than two decades younger than her husband. They had met at a hotel where she was working on the nighttime cleaning crew to help pay the bills while she put herself through college. Her lifelong dream was to become an elementary school teacher and she was just one year away from finishing her degree when William Napier walked into her life.

She was immediately attracted to his good looks and the way he spoke. He seemed to be so powerful, like he was in charge of everything. People knew his name and spoke of him with reverence. He had a slight accent that gave him a mysterious quality.

On the other hand, William was equally attracted to Rose—his lovely Rose—a woman whose beauty could attract men for miles. He wined and dined her, taking her to the fanciest restaurants, getting her drunk on the possibility of the life that she could have. He tried as hard as he could to get her into bed, but she refused each time. Rose was not purposefully playing hard to get but instead had the unpopular view that sex should wait until marriage. William somehow found the strength within him and resolved to make an honest woman out of her, so he asked her to marry him at a lighthouse on the easternmost edge of the island. Rose couldn’t refuse and, four months later,  she was in his bed as a married woman.

The sex was terrific for the first week of their marriage until he started to ask her to experiment with things she wasn’t comfortable with—particularly handcuffs. Soon after the wedding, he had cuffed her to the bed and left her for over an hour as he did various things around the house. Finally, when he no longer heard her cries—which flowed from excitement to uncertainty to fear to anger to despondency—he finally returned to the bed and hastily finished himself inside of her. After she protested the act, he apologized and said that he thought she was just playing along. To save herself the embarrassment of her naïveté, she lied and told him that she was indeed playing along. Rose was a virgin, after all, and William was her first sexual experience. She wasn’t entirely sure what a man more than twenty years her senior would expect from a woman in the bedroom, so, in her head, she promised to play the role of dutiful wife, fulfilling his every need.

William was never interested in concept of marriage and a true domestic partnership. In his mind, marriage was a means to control a woman and he knew that he had young Rose under his thumb right where he wanted her. He was unfaithful to her even before they were married—one day before, in fact. While Rose was sleeping in her bed dreaming of the life she was to begin with the mysterious man she fell in love with, he was fucking a woman he had met in a bar. Women were pawns in his game and they all fell for his charming personality. He considered the five invisible notches on his bedpost for his five wives to be a badge of honor. He would have hundreds more if he were to count all of the women he had ever slept with.

After sending Rose upstairs to the bedroom, William poured himself a double shot of vodka and drank it down with a smile. He was going to make sure his Rose knew who was in charge.

For all intents and purposes, William raped Rose that night in their bedroom—her face crushed into a pillow as he took her from behind. It was always about him and she was beginning to learn this quickly. But then he would treat her with an offer for tea and pull out a gift of jewelry that he had been hiding.

“Just for you, my lovely Rose,” he told her that night as she opened a box to show a beautifully crafted golden rose pendant on a gold chain. He helped attach the necklace at the nape of her neck and kissed her gently.

“My lovely Rose,” he repeated as a lone tear escaped her eye and rolled down her cheek. “Oh, don’t cry, my love. We’ll always be together...” He turned her around so she was facing him directly and softly spoke, “I love you, Rose.”

“I-I love you, too, Will,” she said as she second-guessed herself. Her response was now perfunctory and automatic and she was glad she did not hesitate. She was learning more and more about the man she had agreed to marry and was beginning to question her decision to be with him.

*****


	15. Chapter 15

It was now one week since the family dinner had occurred and Robert found himself in his study looking at the cream-colored rotary phone on his desk.

“Honey?” Anne’s voice called to him from the kitchen. “Would you like some tea?” There was no answer.

Anne made her way through the expansive house and to the locked glass door of her husband’s study. He didn’t appear to be busy and he wasn’t on the phone so she knocked and waved, causing him to look up. She watched his tall, slender frame as he got up from his chair, unlocked the door, and let her in, locking the door again behind her.

“Are you... did you make the call yet?” she asked.

She knew enough about his plan to know what kind of stress he was under. Even though law enforcement couldn’t make spouses testify against each other, Anne and Robert agreed that he would keep her in the dark when it came to his vocational activities. Beyond that, Anne truly did want to be kept in the dark; she didn’t want know hear him talk about the brutal beatings and cold-blooded murders. But she knew that he couldn’t keep up the charade any longer and that he wanted to do what was right.

“No... not yet,” he replied. “I’m worried about Will.”

“Robert, you know how I feel about Will,” she said as she sat down on the loveseat and wrung her hands together. “I don’t even know how you two could be brothers. You’re so different... He has zero compunction about what he does— _zero_ ,” she added the final word with great emphasis. “I know that you’re no angel yourself, but you carry a weight with you. He... he doesn’t. I fear for Rose, that’s who I fear for. It won’t be long before the beatings start or before she’s pregnant and she happens to have a ‘miscarriage’ because tying him down with a child is the last damn thing on his mind and—”

“Anne,” Robert attempted to interrupt quietly.

“I’m just so glad that Sandra had the sense to take her son and get the hell out of here. She doesn’t need his shit... We don’t need his shit.”

“I know,” he said, sitting down next to her. His voice was solemn. “I... I just... I just have a hard time wrapping my head around turning in my own brother. He’s all I have left.”

“You have me,” she reminded him. “And our children.”

“I know... I’m having a difficult time reconciling the fact that we have all of this...” he said, gesturing around the room with an open hand as he sighed. “We have all of this and it’s all because of William. Working for him has literally put food on our table. I remember when I didn’t have food on the table when I was a kid. It... was really awful.”

Anne breathed in slowly and looked into her husband’s deep blue eyes. “Robbie... I’m so sorry. I know I didn’t help any of it. I didn’t question where the money was coming from. I was more than happy to deposit the money in the bank. I was more than happy to watch you sign a check for the house...” Anne looked down and spun the wedding band around her finger. “But we’re a team. And I’m here for you. I love you... Our kids love you.” She sniffed as tears started to form in her eyes, hugging her eyelashes before cascading down her cheeks.

“Oh, Anne,” he sighed as he pulled her close to him. “Don’t be sorry. _I’m_ the one who should be sorry.” He found her lips and kissed her gently. “Everything is going to be all right. I promise, okay?”

“What if William... what if he comes after us? For turning him in?” she asked her husband, wiping tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.

“Well, the goal is that he is taken away before he can do anything, right?” he responded, trying to be sensible.

“But you already told him that you want out... you said he was upset and that he needed time. You don’t think that he has any inkling that you’ve already spoken to... _the police_?” she asked, her voice becoming a whisper at the end.

“No, no way... There’s no way he would suspect that,” Robert replied somewhat nervously. _What if he did have an inkling?_ He wondered.

“Okay,” she said, leaning in to kiss him on the forehead. “You need to do what you need to do. Meanwhile, I have dinner cooking in the crock pot and it should be done in about three hours. That’s enough time for you to pick up Jack from his tests and for Alana to walk home from violin practice.”

Robert cupped the side of her face in his big hand and stared into her eyes. “I love you, Anne... I love you so much,” he told her as he pulled her in for a deeper kiss.

*****

Anne loved the feeling of a full house. When her children were swirling around the rooms talking to each other about their likes and dislikes, laughing at stupid jokes, and even annoying each other with childish games, she could feel the special energy that existed within the big family. She loved her husband more than anything in the world and supported him completely with his decisions as she knew he would support her in the same way.

“I want ice cream!” Ethan yelled from the dining room where he was sitting on the rug playing with a small toy car. “Mommy, can we get ice cream?”

“We’ll have to ask your father, sweetie,” she replied. “Jackie’s at school finishing up some tests and maybe we can all go out when Daddy goes to pick him up.”

“Why is Jack at school already?” Ethan asked, his mind immediately switching from thinking about ice cream to his absent brother. “I thought school didn’t start for two whole weeks!”

“Jack is taking a few extra tests to help determine his... academic track... when he goes back,” she explained.

“What do you mean by academic track?” he asked as he slid on the floor from the dining room to the kitchen, still playing with his car.

Anne thought for a moment. She never wanted to make any of her children feel like they were less or more around each other and she certainly didn’t want to be the cause of any deep-seated rivalry. She saw how William detested the fact that Robert had the opportunity to finish high school and she wanted to ensure that none of her children harbored any resentment for each other.

At the end of the last school year, Jack’s teacher suggested that Jack would be a good candidate for the gifted education program—a more advanced academic track amidst their already rigorous curriculum. The school scheduled Jack to come in for a morning of testing that day and he was expected to be completing the tests soon.

The day was like any other Friday in what felt like a summer full of Fridays—full of sun, warmth, and laughter. Robert was not working later that evening—a rarity for a Friday night—but was instead finding the courage to make the phone call and schedule a meeting with the police and the FBI.

“It’s just a different course of study,” she tried to reply thoughtfully. It wasn’t that Ethan was unintelligent; it was that Jack was most likely a genius and she had to walk that line carefully. “Now, once your daddy is done in his study, we’ll grab Andy and Alana and get that ice cream, okay?”

“Yay! Ice cream! Ice cream!” Ethan rattled on as he spun the wheels of his car on the carpet, trying to get them to spin faster with each push.

*****

The last thing that Robert and Anne heard as their car was consumed by the front end of a Mac truck were the terrified screams of their children. And then... nothing.

Traffic stopped on the road as passers-by jumped out of their own vehicles to help the family trapped in the Mercedes Benz station wagon.

There were pieces of vehicle all over the road, as if the car were a body and it had lost its limbs—part of a bumper here, a pile of glass there. People clamored to help extract bodies from the vehicle that sat crushed against the huge truck.

_There was a blue car! It side-swiped them and pushed them into the truck!_

_Oh my god, there are kids in here!_

_Someone go call for help!_

_Do you know CPR? Who knows CPR?!_

The good samaritans surrounded the vehicle and pulled one limp body after the other from the car.

_The driver... He has no pulse!_

_The woman... Oh, dear God..._

_Oh, Jesus Christ in heaven..._

The broken body of Ethan was pulled from the vehicle. His fragile bones were smashed and he was covered in blood. Soon Alana and Andrew were removed, both equally as bloody. Alana, having sat in the center, had no protection from the onslaught of glass. However, she also did not experience the impact of slamming into the front seats that her two brothers experienced. Sirens drew closer as two ambulances pulled up and several Emergency Medical Technicians jumped out and got to work.

_I need everyone to step back!_

_The young girl has a pulse! She has a pulse!_

Alana could feel herself being pulled back to life and sound suddenly became louder.

“That’s it, sweetie. It’s okay. My name is Kevin and I’m here to help you, okay?” she heard a kind voice tell her.

“What about the others?” a voice spoke in the distance.

“The two adults have no pulse. The driver airbag did not deploy. We cannot get the doors open to extract them. They're not likely.”

“The smallest male... did not make it.”

“Neither did this young man, Jesus Christ...”

“Hail Mary, full of grace... our Lord is with thee... Blessed art thou among women...” Alana heard a man continue his prayer as the EMTs placed a brace around her neck.

“On three... one, two, three.” She felt her body move to a soft, comfortable surface. Suddenly, she felt like she was at home in her own room lying on her bed. It was so pleasant. It was incredibly bright like the windows were wide open—like there was no wall or ceiling. She was so warm and so happy as she felt herself float upward to the sky. She breathed her final breath as her small body succumbed to the temptation of the warmth and happiness that called to her.

*****


	16. Chapter 16

“It’s done. They’re gone,” the voice spoke into the phone.

“What... What the fuck do you mean _they’re_ gone?” William said as the blood drained from his face.

“Look, I did _exactly_ what you told me to do. I ran the car off the road into a truck. How was I supposed to know that there would be a full house?”

William took a deep breath as he tried to wrap his mind around the unexpected outcome. It was supposed to be clean and easy. Robert was supposed to be picking up Jack in the wagon. He knew the path that he would take—Robert only so willingly gave up that information. William just didn’t expect his entire family to be with him.

“Where did it take place?”

“At Port Washington and Northern. No one followed me and no one saw me,” the voice said as the line went dead.

William sat in his study—his own home nearly twice as big as his brother’s and almost twice as old. He knew the phone call would come soon and he steeled himself for the news. Actually, he had taken the news surprisingly well and now he was steeling himself for his _performance._

_Oh no, officer, my brother and his entire family were in a car accident? You need me to identify their bodies? Oh, this is so terrible. They were so young. They were such a nice family. I loved them so much..._

Within twenty minutes, as expected, the phone rang. Pulling his emotional mask on, he feigned surprise and concern.

“Of course, I’ll be right there. They’re at St. Francis?” he asked referring to the local hospital. “I’ll be there right away. May I ask how many children were in the car? I see... Yes, they have a young boy, Jack... Yes, thank you, officer.”

He placed the phone back in its cradle and walked over to the door leading out to the hallway. He caught a glance of himself in the mirror and straightened his tie while smiling at his reflection.

“Rose!” he yelled, tension flowed through is voice. “Where are you?”

“I’m in the sitting room! Is everything okay?” she called to him, placing the magazine she was reading on the arm of the couch.

“Stay there,” he instructed her. She obeyed as she dared not defy his orders again. He entered the room to find her standing in front of the couch, her thick wavy black hair reaching down to her shoulders. “You’re going to need to sit back down.”

“Wha... What happened, Will? You’re scaring me,” she said in a trembling voice.

“Just sit the fuck down!” he screamed, his face becoming mean and then immediately softening. “Sweetie,” he said, his voice now soothing and calm like a soft wind. “Sweetie, there has been an accident.”

“Who?” she asked, afraid to know the answer.

“Robert...” he said as she gasped, “and Anne...”

“No, no, no, no!”

“...And the children... They’re all gone...”

“ _Oh my god, no_!” she yelled as she stood up, tears falling from her eyes in an instant. “How could this happen?”

Rose liked the family—she thought they were authentic and sincere. They had opened their home to her so quickly. Anne felt like an older sister to her. She had even gently pressed her for information about William—about how he was treating her. It was like Anne knew about William and she was trying to get Rose to figure it out on her own.

Rose ran out of the room to the powder room in the hallway and threw up in the toilet. This couldn’t be right. They were good people. They were kind. Their children were amazing.

“Rose?” William’s stern voice called to her from the hallway. “Rose, I need you to pull yourself together.”

“ _Pull myself together_?!” she yelled his words back at him, heaving once more into the commode. “Pull myself together?! Are you mad?” She turned to face him as he stepped into the small room. “How can you be so cold? Your entire family is _dead_!”

“I told you _not_ to talk to me that way, you bitch!” he yelled at her before grabbing her by the throat and then easing off. “Stop your crying. I need you to go to Hawthorne Academy to pick up Jack.”

A glimmer of hope flashed across her face. “Jack? Little Jackie is still alive?” She smiled through her tears despite all of the terrible news.

“Take the BMW. I’m taking the Porsche to the hospital. They need next of kin there. Bring Jack to me. They’re at St. Francis, _okay_?” he asked, his voice taking a tone of condescension.

“Okay,” she said quietly as she wiped her face off with the towel and pushed her way past William and out of the small bathroom.

 _Jack is alive! Thank god Jack is alive!_ She grabbed the car keys with a shaking hand and left the house.

*****

The next few days and weeks were hell for Rose. William didn’t seem to have an empathetic bone in his body—true empathy, not feigned. He certainly was good at feigning empathy and concern. She wondered how she could have been so wrong about him. She was thinking more and more about leaving him. She wished she could just talk to Anne, but now she had no one—no one except for Jack. He was the only glue holding her to William.

Poor, sweet, innocent Jack. He didn’t quite understand what had happened to his mommy and daddy, to his big brothers and big sister. Rose started to pour her life into caring for this young child and found that she now had a purpose again. She had lived a purposeful life—going to college, planning for a career—until it was stolen from her by William with his seductive promises of money and comfort and love. He certainly delivered his promises on all of them except for love. She wasn’t even sure if he were actually capable of love.

But Jack never seemed to notice anything awry with his Uncle William, not even at the funeral where he had gotten drunk and made a scene when one of his ex-wives had arrived to pay her respects.

“Where’s William? Huh, Sandra? Where did you take my boy?” he screamed at the woman as a few men in the congregation shushed him and pulled him away. It was just the way Uncle William was and Jack expected it.

“Are mommy and daddy in those boxes?” Jack asked with tears in his eyes at the service, his small arm lifted and hand pointed toward the front.

Rose began to cry harder at the innocence of his question. “Jackie... I’m sorry, honey,” Rose whispered in his ear. “They’re all gone. They’re in heaven now...”

Rose would spend each night lying with Jack as he fell asleep and caressed his soft brown hair. It was the least she could do to get away from lying with William and being forced to submit to acts in the bedroom that she did not want to do.

“Aunt Rosie?” Jack asked one night as Rose held him close. It had been almost two weeks since the funeral.

“Yes, sweetheart?” she said, looking into his pretty blue eyes—so full of child-like innocence and purity.

“Aunt Rosie... I know that mommy and daddy and Andrew and Alana and Ethan are not coming back... They are buried in the ground... I... I’m trying not to be sad because Uncle Willie said that I’m an orphan now... and I’m scared that I’ll be taken to an orphanage...” His eyes swelled with tears as he looked at his Aunt Rose, doing his best to not blink and send them on a course down his cheeks.

Rose erupted into tears and held the boy’s small body in her arms. She rocked and rocked him for a long time as they both continued to cry.

“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry, Jack,” she whispered into his ear, his head pressed against her chest. “It’s you and me now. No one is going to take you anywhere... I will take care of you.”

“Me and you and Uncle Willie...” he said sweetly.

“Yes, Uncle Willie, that’s right,” she responded.

At that moment, a thought entered her head that she couldn’t shake. She realized that her husband may have done the unthinkable.

 _There is no way. No way._ She said it over and over in her head like a mantra. He loved his family. It was all he had left. He couldn’t have killed them all.

The terrifying thought rolled around in her mind as she rested in the bed holding onto Jack as hard as she could. _I will never let you go,_ she thought as she kissed his head and held him close.

*****


	17. Chapter 17

Several months had passed and life was returning to a semblance of normal for Jack. He was enrolled at Hawthorne in the third grade—having only missed a few weeks at the beginning—and he seemed to be adjusting to life with Uncle William and Aunt Rose. Documents were drawn up to have him officially adopted by the couple instead of putting him into the foster system, and a case manager stopped by every once in a while to see how he was doing at both home and school.

At home, nothing was ever amiss as the young social worker could not fathom how a little boy growing up around so much wealth and luxury would possibly have a hard time adjusting. William overtly flirted with the woman, causing Rose to fume. But she dared not say a word lest she be slapped—or worse.

Rose was under William’s control night and day. She had almost no interaction with her family and she was forced to give up her friends. She felt her mind moving into what she called _survival mode_ —she was no longer interested in fun or sex, she was only interested in surviving and caring for Jack.

“You can leave anytime you want,” William seethed into her face one evening as he grabbed her by the throat and pushed her up against their bedroom wall. “Do it, just walk out the front door.” He tightened his grip and then let go, her weakened body crashing to the floor. “But you probably can’t live without the money... You women are all the same... so fucking materialistic.”

Rose sat against the wall and rubbed her throat. He had grabbed her so hard and at such an angle that she was sure she would be hoarse for days. She didn’t care about the money.

At first, during their engagement in the spring, the thought of having money was so alluring, so attractive... so _seductive_. She had grown up in a lower middle class household, which meant that both her mother and father worked full-time in menial jobs to support their busy household of three children. She herself worked part-time during high school and full-time during the summers, which is the only way she had been able to save up and afford her college tuition.

Money was not the reason that Rose stayed with her abuser. She wanted to protect Jack. She knew she couldn’t just run away with him without repercussions, and she knew she couldn't leave him alone with William.

William was a terrible influence on the young, very impressionable boy. She saw him show Jack his gun—a beautiful pearl-handled piece that he kept in his leather holster on nights that he worked. He even let the child hold it on occasion. But she had to remain voiceless with her protests or else she would be on the receiving end of a slap or a sexual assault or a choking as she was this night. He had made it indirectly clear that she was expendable... and she was pretty sure that he felt the same way about Jack.

William, however, was beginning to see the benefit of keeping Jack around. He loved the idea of molding a young man into his likeness—as if he were a god and Jack was being made in his image.

He began taking Jack out to play poker where he would show off how powerful he was. No one could touch William Napier, and if you didn’t play poker with him, then he knew you were a squealing piggy who needed to be put down.

“I fold,” one of his newer associates named Razzy stated one Saturday evening at a game attended by Jack.

William eyed the man’s pile of chips, of which there were quite a few. “You can’t keep folding Razz now that you have all the chips. You gotta give us a chance to win them back.”

“Look, I’d give youse a chance if you’d stop dealin’ me shit hands,” Razzy retorted as smoke from his last inhale escaped from his nostrils like a cartoon bull preparing to run toward a matador.

“Who else here thinks that our friend Razzy is jerkin’ us off?” William asked, looking around the table at the seven men and then down to Jack who was stuck to his uncle’s side. “If I wanted to be jerked off, I’d ask Nikita here for some assistance. Look at those hands... they’d feel good on my dick right about now,” he said, referring to a pretty young waitress holding a tray. “Go get me whiskey... neat, won’t ya, doll?”

The woman left the private room in the basement of the hotel, leaving the men to continue their intense card game.

William turned to his nephew and grunted. “Hm, Jackie, you think we’re getting a raw deal?”

Jack bit his bottom lip and looked at the men in the room. He was so intimidated by the men, cigarettes dangling from their mouths, their eyes burning a hole into his soul.

“I dunno,” he whispered to his uncle. Like he did at every game, Jack listened and watched, absorbing every piece of information that his eyes and ears could gather.

“You’re a good kiddo,” William said, rubbing his hand a little too hard on Jack’s head. “The only problem I’m seeing is that Razzy here is cheatin’.”

“I’m not cheating— _are you nuts_?” Razzy responded. “Here, check my sleeves. Ain’t got no cards!” He shook his arms over the table. “I can’t help it if you suck dick at playing Poker.”

William stared down at the table, his hand twitching.

“C’mon Will... just ignore him,” a man to his left stated, moving ever so slightly away from the table as if he knew the fate that was about to befall Razzy.

To add insult to injury, Razzy continued, “Listen man, if getting your money back is that important, I’ll let you suck my dick for a fee.” He lit up another cigarette as he chuckled to himself. Meanwhile, the faces of the other men became frozen. They knew Razzy had crossed the line.

In the blink of an eye, William pulled out his pearl-handled pistol and shot Razzy directly through the eye. Jack covered his mouth as he let out a high-pitched scream, Razzy’s blood splattering him in the face.

William looked at his outstretched hand completely covered in blood and looked back at young Jack who sat paralyzed on the far corner of his chair. William took a finger and smeared the blood around on the back of his hand to look like a demonic smile. Holding it up to his face, he turned to Jack and laughed in a strained, staccato manner. William then turned to the rest of crew and continued with his laughter as they stared at him, glued to their seats.  

“Monty,” William said to a man standing at the door as he grabbed a cocktail napkin and wiped the blood from his hand. “Monty, clean this piece of shit up and get him out of here. He can keep his pittance for his funeral fund. It’s what, maybe ten grand there?”

William looked around at the men who maintained hard looks on their faces. It didn’t matter that they had families, wives, sons, daughters... In a situation like this, they put on their best serious face and pretended like it didn’t matter. Because they all knew that a man like William Napier was dangerous... he was dangerous because he was crazy.

Jack leaned forward in his chair toward the table and threw up on the floor.

*****

It was a Saturday in November and Jack’s case manager had called to say she was on her way for a home visit.

Rose heard William on the phone—the way the words floated out of his mouth sickened her. She knew she would need to be out of the house when that woman stopped by.

“I’m going to do some shopping for a bit,” she informed her husband. Christmas was a little over a month away and she wanted to buy a few things for Jack.

“But you’re going to miss _Evelyn_ ,” he said with fake concern in his voice.

“If you mean _Mrs_. Carter, the _social worker_ , then, yes, I suppose I _will_ be missing her,” she shot back. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“That’s right, you bitch. You talk back to me but you’re _more_ than happy to spend my money!” he called out to her from his study as she briskly walked to the kitchen and into the garage. She couldn’t bear another beating.

“Fucking _bitch_ ,” he said as he stood at the door to his study.

Walking upstairs, he called for Jack who was in his room. “Hey Jackie, Mrs. Carter is going to be here in a little bit, you just stay up here, okay?”

“Okay, Uncle Willie,” he responded in a happy voice as he tried to block out the thought of his aunt and uncle yelling at each other. He liked Mrs. Carter. She always brought him a cherry lollipop and she was kind to him.

William headed into his master bathroom to clean up while Jack played with a Lego set in his room. Jack stopped building as he remembered leaving his Lego house in the closet of his uncle’s study. William didn’t like it when Jack left his toys lying around, and he was afraid that Mrs. Carter would find out and he would have to leave the house for an orphanage.

Jack mostly liked living with his uncle. He liked being funny at Poker games when his uncle wasn’t in the room. But, most of all, he really liked Rose. He loved Rose. She was so kind and loving to him, like his mom was. She held him when he was sad and she made him feel better. He read books to her and she listened, helping him pronounce words along the way.

Jack made the decision to quickly run downstairs to the study and retrieve his toy before Mrs. Carter arrived. He was in the big, walk-in closet about ready to gather all of the pieces to his set when the doorbell rang. He heard his uncle trot down the steps and open the door while standing frozen in the closet.

“Evelyn... how are you?” William asked, his voice as sweet as nectar.

“I’m well, thank you. How are you and Jack doing?” she asked as she stepped into the huge foyer and looked around. William removed her jacket and laid it over the post at the end of the grand staircase.

“Jack is doing well... Rose isn’t here right now,” he said as he rolled his eyes. “She’s out shopping.”

“I see...” Evelyn responded, licking her lips and looking up into the older man’s eyes.

“Why don’t you... step into my study for a moment?” he asked as he directed her into the hallway behind him. “Just at the end of the hallway there...”

William followed Evelyn into the study where she was now standing and closed the door behind him. He turned and looked at the beautiful redhead and felt a rush of excitement as they embraced each other in a fiery kiss. William carefully unbuttoned all of her buttons and unzipped her skirt as his hands fondled every part of her body. He removed her bra and began to loudly suck on her nipples, making moaning noises that seemed too theatrical for something that should be so passionate.

“Oh, I love your big titties. They make me wanna cum right in my trousers,” he told her, his voice heavy and gravelly.

“Well, why don’t you let me take care of that?” she asked, giving him a sexy look and putting her hand on his cock.

William directed Evelyn to a couch where she sat down and proceeded to watch him unbuckle and unzip his pants. He pulled down his boxers to reveal his completely erect penis, which was level with Evelyn’s mouth.

“Suck me off,” he instructed. “Make me cum.”

She took him in her mouth and worked her lips on him when a sound from the open closet door caught their attention. It was Jack who had dropped a Lego piece on the floor, a sound that every child knows can somehow travel for miles.

“Oh, god, Will, I didn’t know Jack was here. Jesus!” Evelyn tried to stand up and cover her naked breasts as William stood his ground and pushed her back down.

“You stay right there, bitch,” William told her, his mood changing in the span of a second.

“Can I go play upstairs, Uncle Willie?” Jack asked meekly as he stared at the ground, avoiding looking at the scene before him.

“No, you stay right there. You gotta learn this some day,” he explained, a giant, deranged smile forming across his lips.

Turning to Evelyn, William grabbed her neck and started to squeeze, his thumb pushing into her artery. “Suck me off, bitch. And if you bite, I’ll make you eat a knife sideways. You’d look good with a Glasgow Smile,” he threatened, his Scottish accent becoming more noticeable as he became angrier.

Evelyn started to cry as he forced himself in her mouth. He grabbed a fistful of her silky red hair and held her head in place while thrusting himself so far in that she would gag.

Jack stared down at his Lego house and knew that he should not be seeing what he was seeing. He remembered his mom telling him over and over that everyone had private parts that were supposed to remain private.

“Look up, Jackie, and watch,” William called out to him in a sickening tone. “Yeah, keep going, you fucking bitch. Take it all in.”

Suddenly, William grabbed her by the throat and made a disgusting howl as he finished inside of her, her mouth gagging around him as he squeezed harder.

Scared that she was hurt, the only thing Jack could think to do was to run up to his room and hide under his covers, dropping the Lego house on the floor of the study in the process as he opened the door and ran out of the room.

William pulled out and put his clothing back on. Finding his wallet, he threw a handful of money at the naked woman sitting on his leather sofa, tears streaming from her eyes as a shaking hand wiped around her mouth.

“You... you...” Evelyn tried to say but couldn’t find her words.

“Get the fuck out of my house, whore. You will not speak a word of this because I will tell your superiors that _you_ got naked and sucked my dick in front of an eight-year-old boy!” He nearly shouted the last part with glee. He walked behind his desk and sat down, putting his feet up and clasping his hands behind his head.

Evelyn quickly put on her clothing and ran out of the room.

“Oh, I hate to see you go... but I love to watch you leave!” he yelled as she ran down the hallway and grabbed her jacket from the banister.

As soon as she opened the front door, she turned to the side and threw up behind the bushes.

*****

A month had passed and it was now mid-December, almost time for Christmas, and little Jack was getting excited—as excited as a child could get who just lost his entire family, that is.

Like any child, he loved presents and he especially liked to play with his Legos. He would build garages for his Matchbox cars and drive them around on his blankets, pretending that they were hills and valleys. Rose watched over him as he played and answered any question he had about his brothers and sister and if they were in heaven playing, too.

In addition to taking Jack in, William was named executor of Robert and Anne’s estate in their will. Anne had no family remaining on Long Island and her parents had long been deceased. She had only two brothers—one living in Boston and another in Philadelphia—who laid claim to part of the estate in the Napier’s will. William instructed his probate lawyer to give them everything that was named for them by Anne and anything else that they may have wanted—just to avoid any contest or claim during the probate process.

There were two brief occasions where William allowed Rose to take Jack to the old home to collect a few items of value: clothing, books, toys, games, some photo albums, and a few things to remind Jack of his parents like his father’s favorite cufflinks and his mother’s favorite necklace—a delicate silver Celtic cross that she wore to represent her faith as a Presbyterian.

After all of the items were distributed to their rightful owners, the contents of the home were sold at an estate sale. It saddened Rose to know that everything that Jack ever knew was being sold to people in nothing more than a glorified yard sale. All of the items and possessions that he had known his whole life were being chosen and distributed to other families. She sat in a chair in Jack’s room, watching him play with his cars—apparently oblivious to the hellish world around him—as she wept for the life he used to have.

“Aunt Rosie? Why are you crying?” he asked in a caring tone.

Jack was very attuned to other people’s feelings, she learned. He had a level of empathy that she hadn’t seen in a child before, but she also knew that he was mentally very strong. He had come home one night from a Poker game covered in blood—or a poor attempt to clean it off—and he told her that his uncle shot a man across the table. She could tell that he did his very best to hold back tears as she helped remove his clothing and clean his skin with a warm washcloth.

She knew tears had filled his eyes the day William purposefully ran over a cat and exclaimed triumphantly as the car thumped over its corpse. _Don’t be a pussy! Be a man!_ William had yelled back to Jack who was paralyzed in the back seat. Rose reached her hand behind herself and Jack placed his tiny hand in hers—it was wet from wiping away tears. _You have to be strong for me,_ she would tell him when they were alone together, which was often.

William was always distant and never offered a word of true encouragement to the impressionable young boy. When William wasn’t hurting Rose in the bedroom or taking Jack to Poker nights, he was locked in his study or working a job—or he was with another woman. And Rose didn’t care. She avoided him as much as possible, either by falling asleep in the chair in Jack’s room or taking refuge in one of the many spare rooms. Most of all, she wished she could find the strength to make the man disappear from the Earth... and she told Jack almost as much.

“Why are you crying?” he asked again, getting down from his bed and padding over to the young woman.

“Oh, Jackie... I wish I could just take you away... Take you away from all of this forever,” she told him, trying to find the resolve to not cry in front of him.

“I love you, Aunt Rosie,” he said, reaching his small hands up to her shoulders.

Rose lifted him onto her lap and held his face against hers, her tears rolling down her cheeks and onto his.

“I’m sorry you’re so sad...” he stated as he looked up into her bloodshot eyes. “Can I show you the Christmas present I’m working on for you?”

“Sweetheart...” Rose smiled through her tears, “You have a present for me?”

“Yep!” he said, rolling off of her legs and onto the floor.

Rose watched as he opened the doors to his closet and then opened up a smaller door that led to a crawl space. He ducked down and crept in, emerging with something colorful. It was a big Lego house made with different colored bricks—red, white, yellow, blue, and black.

“Wow, this is for me?” she asked, now smiling widely at the boy’s generosity.

“Actually... this is _our_ house,” he explained. “I wish that we could live together—just me and you—in a big, rainbow house like this. We would have dogs and cats and birds. You wouldn’t be sad anymore because we could do whatever we wanted to do all the time.”

At that moment, Rose erupted into tears. She held the toy brick house in her hands and stared at it. There were two little yellow figures, one with black hair in pigtails and the other with brown hair. It represented Jack and Rose as they stood outside of the front door of their new house, their arms waving in the air above them. There was a balcony with a little table overlooking a green yard enclosed with a small white fence. A few pine trees dotted the landscape as well as a some flowers in a garden.

“I thought you might like the flowers the most, Aunt Rose, just like your name,” he said as he leaned into her while continuing to survey his masterpiece. “I just have to add a few finishing touches on it and then it’ll be done.”

The tears continued to flow down her cheeks. He was such a pure, sweet child. He wanted to get out of this house as much as she did. He didn’t want to be around his terrible Uncle William.

“I love the flowers and I love the house, Jackie. You... You are so thoughtful,” she said pulling his head to her breast and kissing his hair. “Maybe someday we _can_ live together. Is that what you want? To get out of here?”

“Yes,” he spoke quietly as his fingers traced along the scalloped edges of the plastic flowers. “I want to live with you.”

*****


	18. Chapter 18

A few days had passed and Rose waited until she saw William drive away before heading to the kitchen to use the phone. It was Christmas Eve and yet he preferred to spend it with his boys or with a hooker. She picked up the phone and pressed the buttons of the touchtone phone—one of the small luxuries that she never had at her childhood home. The numbers came to her by heart, playing a unique little song as she pressed them in.

“Momma?” she asked when a woman answered the line.

“Rose? Is that you?” the woman asked.

“Momma, I’m so sorry,” Rose said and she started to weep openly. “I’m so sorry for everything.”

Rose’s memories came rushing back from earlier in the summer just prior to her marriage to William. She stood in the dining room of her parent’s small rowhouse in Brooklyn. Her teenage sister peeked around the entrance from the kitchen as she eavesdropped on the altercation—as if their argument couldn't be heard a block away anyway.

 _We are in love!_ Rose had yelled at her parents. _He has more money than you’ll ever dream about!_ _I don’t care if you don’t support my decision! You have always tried to get me to do what you wanted me to do! I hate you! I fucking hate you! Do not contact me! I’m no longer your daughter!_

Those final words repeated over and over in her mind for months. She never really meant them. She loved her family, no matter how overbearing and controlling they could be. She was upset that they couldn’t see how she was in love.

 _He is so much older_ , they told her. _What does he do for a living? How does he have so much money? Why is he making you quit school when you’re so close to being done? Why are you giving up your life to be with this man?_ They admitted that he was very charming, very charismatic... but there was something that her mother just couldn’t put her finger on. He just seemed a little _off_.

“You were right...” Rose continued into the phone. “You were right...” She could barely speak from sobbing so hard.

“Honey, oh honey, I’m so sorry,” Rose’s mom said as she herself began to cry. “Why don’t you come home, okay? Get your things and come home. Your bedroom is still here... I can have daddy come get you.”

Rose’s frown deepened. She had never even told her parents where she was living. She could be in a warehouse on the East River for all they knew. How could she possibly explain that she was living in a giant mansion in one of the richest neighborhoods of Long Island?

She had use of a car, yet she never put her foot down with William—she never threatened to leave. Why didn’t she just leave? Did she love him? No, she knew there was no love.

The only one she cared for was Jack. She lived for Jack. She knew that if she left without him, he would follow in William’s awful footsteps and become a horrible monster. On the other hand, if she left and took Jack with her, William would follow her and he would most certainly kill her.

As for Jack... William needed Jack. Out of some twisted perversion, William felt that he could teach Jack the rules of the world. _I’m not a monster,_ Rose heard him tell Jack one day, _I’m just ahead of the curve._

“Momma, I... I have to do a few things and then... then I’ll be home,” Rose responded.

“Should I set a place at the table for Christmas dinner?” her mother asked with a glimmer of hope in her voice.

“I... I don’t know,” Rose said, a plan starting to form in her mind. “Not Christmas... Set two spots for New Year’s dinner, okay? Yes... that sounds lovely... Momma? I love you.” Rose hung up the phone and stared at her shaking hand. She knew she had to do something, but wasn’t sure what.

“Who... were you talking to just now, Rosie, huh?” the cold-as-steel voice spoke behind her.

Rose’s heart jumped in her chest as she turned around to see her husband’s tall frame standing in the darkness of the hallway. The faint light from a lamp in an adjacent room silhouetted his dark wavy hair, almost creating a halo. But he was far from being an angel. He was the devil incarnate.

“I go out... on Christmas Eve... to buy myself some liquor to enjoy while I watch the two of you open your gifts... and I return to hear you plotting your escape?” His voice was becoming more and more shrill with each syllable.

“I... no... I...” Rose tried to find the words as he approached, raising a hand and smashing her in the face.

Rose’s world went dark.

*****

She awoke to find herself handcuffed to one post of their bed with a dirty sock stuffed in her mouth and her feet tied together with pantyhose. She was still clothed in her jeans and big sweater, but she knew it would only take a moment for William to literally rip the clothes from her body like a mindless, savage beast.

William stood at the foot of the bed and stared at his prey.

“You’re gonna hurt tonight,” he told her. “And I’m gonna have a very Merry Christmas.”

He slowly began to unbutton his maroon shirt, which had already been open by several buttons—a look he felt the ladies loved. Indeed, they couldn’t keep their hands off of him and he was more than happy to oblige. He stiffened at the thought of smacking their tender asses at one of the clubs he had the pleasure of visiting. He found refuge in these places when he needed to take a break from his “private security job”—his way of glossing over the fact that he was a contract killer.

First, it was the Westies who had brought him into their ranks and, then, he simply became a hit man for anyone who would pay him. And, sometimes, these contracts were for previous associates within the Westies. It was a true conflict of interest, but William didn’t care. He lived for the power, the control, the blood, the booze, and the sex. He had no moral compass, which is why he knew that his very own brother was going to turn him in.

Robert always had a stronger sense of morals and ethics. Robert had a 14-year marriage, loved his wife deeply, and created four wonderful and virtuous children. When Robert learned that the jobs they were taking were separate contracts—separate from the Westies—he could no longer abide by the work he had been forced to do. Robert almost never killed anyone anyway. William could count them on a single hand. Robert always had William follow through with the hit while he merely provided back-up, but, as William never failed to remind him, Robert was just as complicit in the act. There was equal blood on their hands.

William took great pleasure in his work. He loved to savor the emotions and expressions in his victims’ final moments. In this dog-eat-dog world, it is either kill or be killed. _I’m not a monster_ , _I’m just ahead of the curve,_ he thought to himself. And he said it so much that he believed it.

He proceeded to undress as his wife remained bound on the bed, her eyes wide in fear. He carefully removed his holster with his precious handgun and placed it on the bench at the foot of the bed. He then peeled off his shirt and threw it to the ground, immediately unbuckling his belt and pulling it from his waistband. He held the strong, thick leather in his hands, examining its artful craftwork before lifting it high above his head and whipping it down onto the front of Rose’s legs. Though housed in denim, her legs reeled in pain as she tried to scream out through the fabric in her mouth.

William pulled down his pants to reveal a pair of white boxers covered in big red hearts. It was a sick joke that he had prepared, knowing that there was nothing loving about their relationship.

He stepped out of his pants and Rose could see that he was ready for her. It made her sick. The tantalizing sex they used to have in their early days was now terrifying. The thought of him entering her made her physically ill. It always hurt, she was never ready, and he pushed too hard, not to mention the fact that he would choke her, smack her, and force himself into orifices that she didn’t want him in.

He now stood beside the bed and reached down to pull a knife out of his sock—something that he had learned as a young boy in Scotland. It was not a traditional sgian-dubh but instead a sheathed dagger. William smiled as he pulled it from the sheath and held it up to his face, rocking it back and forth in the light.

When they were dating, William had shown Rose the knife that was held safely within an apparatus under his sock—she thought it was thrilling and dangerous. But now... now she wished that she could pull free from her shackles and slice him across his neck. How she wished to see him choke on his blood, coughing and gagging as he fell to the floor on his knees, a look of shock in his eyes...

William seemed to sense her ire and walked closer to her as he planned his course of attack. He took the sharp knife and slowly cut a line straight up her torso, equally dividing her sweater in half and giving him access to her chest. He then did the same to her bra, cutting the skin between her breasts as he sliced through the heavy fabric. She began to struggle and scream, the sock muffling her sounds.

“I could kill you right now, Rose,” he told her. His arrogance took over as he used his free hand to fondle her exposed breasts. “I could end your life as easily as I did my brother’s... I didn’t plan to take the whole family out, but it has a lucky happenstance.”

 _Lucky happenstance?!_ Rose tried to scream at him. _You’re a monster. I hate you! I hate you!_

William stood above her and watched her struggle. “I love the way your tits bounce as you move, Rose... it really turns me on,” he said as he grabbed his engorged crotch. “I think what I’ll do is fuck those gorgeous tits and then fuck your tightest hole, because you are mine... and don’t you ever forget that.” He stood stroking himself through his boxers as he held the knife above her. “But first... I think I need to give you something that will never let you forget that you’re mine... No matter where you go, you’ll always be _my_ lovely Rose. Now... don’t struggle...”

He pushed his knee down onto her thighs to keep her in place as he brought the knife tip to her bare belly.

 _No! No! Nooooo!_ Rose screamed through the sock as he began to carve into her. She screamed as loudly as she possibly could.

Trapped in his room by a chair his uncle had placed under the doorknob, Jack could hear Rose’s screaming. In the past, when he knew she was being hurt, he would hide in his closet or under the covers because he knew his Uncle William would hurt him if he interfered. He had heard the stifled cries and yelps of pain before, but never anything like he heard that night.

He tried and tried the door knob, pushing and pulling it and jiggling the handle hoping that it would break. He even looked for something heavy—his wooden desk chair—that he could use to beat a hole in the door like he had seen in cartoons. But the door was solid wood and the chair had no effect. He needed an axe.

Jack stood and listened as Rose’s screams became louder. He could hear her yelling the word “no” but she was muffled and all he could think was that his uncle was hurting her. What if he hurt her so badly that they couldn’t leave and move into their own house? It was all little Jack ever wanted. He had lost all of his family—Mom, Dad, Andrew, Alana, and Ethan—and she was all he had left. He was so scared at the thought of losing anyone else, especially Aunt Rose.

Jack paused from throwing the chair against the door and looked to his closet. _The little door!_ He had crawled through it once before and came out in an equally as small door in a closet in the room next to his.

He crawled through the space where he had hidden his Lego house and he pushed the little door open in the adjacent closet. Standing up, he finally emerged into the room, light from the hallway spilling in through the open door. He ran toward the directions of Rose’s muffled screams, straight into the lair of the dragon, Uncle William.

“ _Stop it_!” Jack yelled as William jerked his head up from his work. “Stop hurting her! You’re hurting her!”

Rose cried out in pain again but more frenzied as she feared for Jack’s life more than she feared for her own. _Leave him be!_ She tried to yell at William. _Leave him alone!_

“Jack... Jackie... You’re too young to realize this, but we’re just having a little fun,” he said with a sneer as blood dripped off the tip of the knife. “Remember when Mrs. Carter was in my study and you were watching from the closet? Hm... I bet you do, you dirty little pervert. She really liked that... Same with Rose here... She likes it.”

Rose struggled in her bindings, the warm blood spreading across her stomach. She could not _believe_ the words coming out of the man’s mouth. _Jack saw William and Mrs. Carter in the study? He watched them? How in the world could a child be a dirty pervert? No wonder why Mrs. Carter never came back!_

She tried to scream again. _Run, Jack! Run! Run away! Go!_ But he couldn’t understand. Or perhaps he could and simply ignored her.

“C’mere Jack, help me finish up my artwork. This is how I know that Rose loves me and only me,” William said, his voice low and scary. “It’s bloody, but she deserves it.”

Jack couldn’t bring himself to look at Rose with her sweater ripped open and her exposed chest and stomach completely covered in blood. He wanted to throw up, just like he did when his uncle shot the man at the poker game.

“C’mon Jackie, I’m not done with my inscription. You can help... I know you want to,” William said in a sing-song voice making Rose want to break free and kill the man twice her size with her bare hands. He wouldn’t be fit to care for a houseplant, much less a child, and it made her feel sick.

That’s when she saw Jack do the unthinkable.

Suddenly, in his trembling hands he held the pearl-handled handgun that he deftly grabbed from the holster on the bench next to him. He knew exactly how to hold it, how to remove the safety, how to aim, and how to fire—all thanks to his uncle who now stood in the boy’s crosshair.

“Now, Jackie...” William tried to say in a convincing tone before his voice turned to that of anger. “Jackie, put the god damn gun down now! Put it the fuck down!”

William, knife in hand, lunged toward Jack when he heard the bang, saw the flash, and felt the sting all in the moment of a split second. He collapsed on top of the child, blood gushing from his neck and all over Jack’s shirt. The knife had fallen from William’s hand but he grabbed it in his delirium and held it to Jack’s body, pressing against his upper arm and drawing a long line of blood from the cut.

“I hate you, Jack... I’ve always... hated... you...” William rasped as he gagged on his own blood. His body grew weary and lethargic as he laid on top of the boy, bleeding out from the large wound Jack created in his neck.

Jack wished he were older and bigger. He struggled beneath his uncle as he tried to push the man away, his throat still making gurgling noises and his blood spilling out all over his face and neck. The man’s labored breathing came to a slow end and Jack could feel the muscles loosen in his heavy body as he let out one final sigh.

Then... nothing. He was gone.

Though Jack was not strong enough to push the man away, he was small enough to snake himself out from under his weight after quite a bit of effort. He paused to look down at his uncle’s face, his eyes wide open and looking at the floor, his tongue hanging out of his mouth, and a new pool of blood forming on the carpet as it drained from his neck.

Jack stood up and gingerly made his way over to Rose, unsure if she would be upset and unsure if his uncle would come back to life. His blood-soaked shirt dripped on the floor as he approached the half-naked woman chained to the bed, her eyes full of tears.

Jack crouched down at her side as she turned her head toward him, and he pulled out the sock stuffed in her mouth. It was like removing a slimy fabric tongue, followed by what seemed like a bucketful of saliva as she coughed, causing Jack to step back.

“Jackie... Jack... You... You saved me...” she said between breaths while choking on her tears. “I love you, my sweet boy...”

“I’m sorry, Aunt Rosie...” he said, his eyes closing and his lips curling. He was trying to be strong for her like she always told him he was, but he couldn’t hold back the tears. He fell back down to his knees and leaned against her head. “I’m so sorry...”

“Jack... You did the right thing. You did the right thing,” she told him over and over as he cried into her hair. “Jackie, can you go check his pants pockets for the key? They’re right there on the floor,” she whispered as if William were asleep and would awaken at the sound of her voice.

Jack pushed his tiny hands into the deep pockets and pulled out something silver that looked like a key.

“That’s right, honey. Now... See that hole on the handcuffs? Put the key in and twist it,” she instructed.

He turned the key on one cuff and then the other, releasing her hands from their prison at the post of the bed. She sat up and immediately pulled her sweater over her naked chest and stomach, which stung from the cuts. She reached down with one hand and untied the pantyhose around her ankles and turned to Jack who was still sobbing. His light blue He-Man shirt was unrecognizable, having been stained a deep red.

“Come here, He-Man,” she said, holding her right arm out as she motioned for him to sit with her on the bed. Wrapping her sweater tightly around her torso, she pulled a crying Jack to her as he sat between her crossed legs. “It’s going to be all right,” she promised him, rocking him and stroking his hair. “You have to be strong for me, Jackie. You have to be strong.”

She sat with him for over thirty minutes as she consoled him. She was worried for his future, worried about the man he would become. Would he remain the sweet and caring boy that he was—a boy with an empathetic soul, a boy who knew the difference between good and bad, right and wrong? Or would he take to heart the lessons of his uncle and become a monster? What about his childhood would mold him into his future self? She looked at his beautiful blue eyes and kissed his forehead. Will this little boy walk the path of light or dark? And would she be there to help him through?

Rose contemplated that thought for quite some time. She decided that she would wipe down the gun and put her own prints on it. She couldn’t let the police know that this innocent child had any hand in executing his uncle at point-blank range. She had to take the fall. Would she go to jail? Could she claim self defense?

The guilt... the guilt washed over her like a pounding waterfall. She was responsible for Jack losing all of his family. He would lose everything he ever knew. If she were in jail, he would be an orphan of the state, sent to foster care. _I can’t let that happen._

Although it was possible that Rose wouldn’t face jail time, she was thinking in terms of worst-case scenario. She couldn’t stand the thought of him even potentially being placed in foster care. She had taken a course in social work and child welfare before she left college to be with William. She understood that the system was deeply flawed. Jack would drown. Jack would most certainly become the monster that she feared he would without a stable and consistent home life.

After a great deal of thought, she realized that a boarding school was her only answer. She recalled all of the little postcards that they would receive and throw away from schools all over New England. She recalled staring at one in particular because it looked so inviting—almost wishing that _she_ could attend herself. It had acres upon acres of land, a pond, beautiful brick buildings, and academic preparation second to none... practically an Ivy League school but for children. _Fairford Academy in Massachusetts_ , she remembered. She would call them immediately... or at least _after_ Christmas day.

Rose asked Jack to go into the bathroom and wait for just a few seconds after she removed his bloody shirt and tossed it into the tub. She stepped into the large walk-in closet she shared with William, quickly grabbing a new bra and trading out her blood-stained clothing for pajama pants and a sweatshirt. Looking at her nearly naked body in the full-length mirror, she dabbed the bloody mess on her stomach with a clean section of her bloodied sweater.

 _WILL,_ her stomach spoke to her. She immediately decided that it wasn’t his incomplete name, but a testament to her strong will—to her willpower to make it through and survive no matter what.

The cuts were mostly superficial and they burned. She had no other idea than to wrap herself with toilet tissue to help absorb the blood. She walked back into the bathroom and asked Jack to hold the roll of paper while she spun it around her midsection.

“Jackie!” she interrupted her spin as she caught sight of his arm. “Oh, sweetie, you’re bleeding! Did _he_ do this?” Her face deepened into a scowl. Jack held his arm up and shook his head up and down. “Poor honey... Here, we’ll get you fixed up right away, okay?”

Jack was quiet but seemed to be on the verge of tears at any moment. She removed all of the blood from his body with a warm washcloth and gave the skin near his wound a big, noisy kiss.

“We’ll get band-aids on you right away, okay sweetie? Maybe get you a bath?” Rose was trying her best to be strong for Jack when all she wanted to do was to break down and cry in a corner.

That night, she covered William’s lifeless body with a bedsheet—not out of respect, but so she wouldn’t have to look at it the next time she went into the room to gather her things. She decided to sleep in one of the five guest rooms, her arms locked tightly around Jack’s little body.

The doors were all locked—including the door to their guest room—and William was finally gone from this world. But she couldn’t get the sound of the gunshot out of her head.

*****


	19. Chapter 19

Rose awoke the next day to the same scene she had left the night before, hoping that it was all a bad dream. She tried to act somewhat normally—it was Christmas, after all. She left Jack asleep in the bed while she went downstairs.

She didn’t know if she should turn on the lights and the Christmas tree. Should she act like everything was normal? What would she do if there were visitors for her husband—for her _dead_ husband? She decided that she would treat the day like she would normally treat it: lights on, presents out, and pancakes for breakfast.

She heard the floor upstairs creak above her head and she knew that Jack was awake. _Please don’t look in the bedroom... Please, you don’t need to be reminded of that,_ Rose pleaded silently with Jack.

Soon, he came running down the stairs in a rush—almost as if it were a normal Christmas Day and he was rushing to open presents. But it was not a normal day. He ran to Rose who was standing in the kitchen, tears running down his face again. He buried his face into the soft terrycloth of her bathrobe just below her bosom. He felt safety in her arms while Rose could only feel guilt.

“Don’t leave me,” he said in a small, broken voice, adding even more to her ever-present guilt.

“I... I won’t leave you,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes. She would have to tell him the plan very soon. “How about some pancakes? Would you like some pancakes?”

He shook his head no.

“What would you like to drink? Orange juice?”

Again, he shook his head no.

“Well... it’s Christmas... do you want to open your presents?”

Tears welled up in his blue eyes—eyes that were too young to have witnessed all of the things that they had—and his lip trembled as he shook his head no.

“What can we do to get our mind off of things, hm?” she asked, hoping there was something that would give him some sort of reprieve. A child’s mind shouldn’t have to deal with this kind of stress.

“Can we leave?” he asked, his question so simple and stunning to Rose.

“I-I... we can’t leave just yet, Jackie,” she explained as she knelt down to meet his face with hers. “We will, but not yet... What about something to pass the time?”

“Can we color?” he asked as another frown took hold across his face.

“Yes, we can do whatever you want, okay? This day is just for you... And, listen, don’t think about yesterday. Just don’t think about it. Let me do all of the thinkin’, okay?” She gave him a kind smile—one that he loved and trusted.

They spent the day together in a room that they had really never spent time in before. It was a second sitting room adjacent to William’s study—an area of the house neither of them frequented. Until today, that is.

They enjoyed themselves as they sat on the floor, crayons spread out before them, while they colored at the coffee table in an attempt to be completely ignorant of the events that transpired the previous night. She had even bought him some new coloring books for Christmas—Voltron, He-Man, Transformers—and he loved them all. She watched as he meticulously stayed within the lines and chose his colors very carefully, being sure not to use the same color too often. His smile was huge as he held up each finished drawing for Rose to see. He was such a good child and he deserved so much better than enjoying Christmas in a house where a dead man’s body currently resided on the floor of the master bedroom.

“Jackie,” Rose called to the young boy as he pushed in the VHS tape for the _Karate Kid_ and returned to continue coloring. “Jackie, pause the movie for a second and come here.”

It was evening now and Rose knew that she had to follow through with her decision. She had to do it soon, before she turned herself in for her husband’s murder. She convinced herself that it was the only option. Jack got up onto the couch next to her as she held her arms open for a big hug.

“I know you’re not mine, Jack, but I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Aunt Rosie.”

“I have to tell you something and I don’t want it to be a surprise, okay? I want you to think about it,” she said before taking a deep breath to explain her decision.

She had found an old postcard for Fairford Academy in a pile of junk mail in William’s study. She lifted it from the end table next to the couch and held it in her hands, thinking for a moment. _This is the only option._

“Isn’t this pretty?” she asked, smiling at his adoring face and pointing to the idyllic scene on the post card.

“It looks really nice... Can we go live there?” he asked, excitement filling his voice.

Rose smiled and broke the seal on the card to open it up, revealing more pictures of the grounds, the buildings, and the pond. There were pictures of young men walking down brick pathways, rowing on a lake, and playing basketball. There were photos of students gathered around a table in a laboratory and sitting in a classroom. There were well-furnished dorm rooms with beds and dressers and wardrobes.

“This... this is not somewhere that I can go, sweetheart,” she explained. “This is a school that you would live at. It’s called Fairford Academy.”

“But you would live close by?” he asked.

Rose immediately pictured herself in jail. She pictured him in the foster system. She didn’t want to tell him that she could get in trouble for murdering William—something that he would feel tremendous guilt for since he pulled the trigger himself. She couldn’t put that weight on him. He had already gone through so much.

“I... don’t know where I’ll be able to live, sweetie... I really don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “But if something were to happen to me and you weren't at a place like this... you would have nowhere to go. You would be an orphan.”

“Would I go to an orphanage like in the movie Annie?” he asked with a sudden anxiety in his voice.

“No... not really... They would put you with a family. It could be any family in any situation,” she said.

“Like the Daltons?” he asked, referring to the last name of one of his best friends at school.

“Well... probably not,” she responded, thinking about how the Daltons were a wealthy family and most likely not looking to foster any children. “It could be someone like the Daltons, but it might be someone else. And you would never stay with them for long... In the foster system, you are highly likely to be moved around from home to home as other kids with greater needs enter the system.”

“So... do you think this school is the best place for me to live? I’ve never lived at a school before,” he said as he touched the smooth paper of the postcard.

Rose was glad that he was so reasonable... or maybe she was just convincing, but he seemed to like the idea of living at a school.

“This school is the best place. Look at those buildings and the gardens... you would love it there. And it’s an all-boys school, so you wouldn’t have to worry about cooties,” she laughed, bringing some levity to their serious discussion. She put the postcard on her lap and tickled his sides as he rolled into a ball and giggled hysterically. He then tried to tickle her sides until he was reminded of her stomach wound and quickly pulled his hands away.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” she reassured him. “It doesn’t even really hurt anymore, it just stings." She lied. It hurt a lot. "How about your boo-boo? Does it hurt?”

He looked down at his left arm and shook his head no. “The band-aids made it better,” he said as he touch the edges of the sticky bandages. In truth, the wound was very painful but he didn't want to upset his aunt.

They sat in silence for a moment looking at the postcard until he spoke again.

“Aunt Rose?” he asked. “I miss my mom and dad. I really miss them a lot.” He leaned into her and began to cry. Rose wasn’t sure how he had any tears left in his eyes.

“I know you do... I know... Oh god, Jack, I’m so sorry this happened to you. You are the sweetest, kindest, nicest, most thoughtful little boy I have ever met.” She pulled him to her chest and hugged him hard. “Please don’t change. No matter what happens. Don’t change. Don’t listen to your uncle. He was an awful human being. He was a monster, okay? I don’t know why I married him. I don’t know what I was thinking. Just forget about him... Block him out forever and ever and ever, okay?” She paused. “But you know what, Jackie? I don’t regret it. I don’t regret it because I wouldn’t have met you. You are so special... I love you so much.”

They spent the rest of the evening watching movies non-stop while coloring and playing with a huge box of Lego pieces. Rose felt like a kid from time to time until she reminded herself of the heavy burden that she had to carry and the decision she had to make.

*****

Rose would never forget the look on Jack’s face as she drove away from the school. It was freezing cold outside and there were tiny flakes of snow floating in the air. She would never forget the date—the last day that she would ever see Jack William Napier alive. It was Friday, December 27, 1985. It was the day that she felt like she was giving up her very own child.

She explained to the headmaster by phone that Jack was a gifted student who was orphaned and currently under the care of herself and her husband. She, of course, neglected to tell the man that Jack shot her husband in an attempt to disrupt a sexual assault and that his corpse still lay under a sheet in the master bedroom of their fancy colonial brick home.

During her phone call to the school that Thursday—the day just after Christmas—she delicately explained that she feared for the boy’s safety as her husband had violent tendencies, which was not a lie. The headmaster quickly cut her off to inform her that they do not matriculate students during mid-year—only during the summer—and that he was sorry to hear about the child’s unfortunate home life. His mind was quickly changed, however, when he realized that the family was wealthy.

“Oh, I see,” he had told her, “I assumed this was a matter that the public school system could handle along with social service agencies, of course.”

He had a posh New England accent—one where Rose could literally see him tilting his head backward in a conceited superiority as he spoke his nasal words to the lower class of society. She rolled her eyes as he spoke.

She explained that in addition to the half million to cover tuition, room, and board until Jack’s graduation, she would also provide the school with a very nice endowment of ten million dollars. This was not a false promise as she had seen the bank statements... They had far more than ten million in their overseas accounts and probably millions more tied up in investments.

Rose got all of her ducks in a row that Thursday and was proud of herself for being such an adult and remaining so level-headed throughout the series of ordeals. She was young. She should be out celebrating with friends. She should be drinking, going to dances, and hooking up with random guys.

But so much of what happened since she met William one year prior was absolutely life-changing. Instead of enjoying her young life, she married a wealthy man who turned out to be extremely abusive. She learned that he killed his brother and his family. She inherited the sweetest child known to the world. She watched the man she thought she once loved be shot by the child in order to save her life. She surrendered—nay, abandoned—the child to a school to avoid having to place him in foster care. And she expected to be sent to jail for murder. It was one hell of a year...

She helped Jack pack in preparation for his move—a maximum of one footlocker, a suitcase, and a backpack, as the headmaster told her. After speaking with the headmaster, she spent a good portion of Thursday on the phone with her bank to set up a wire transfer for the eight-figure amount. It came with some concern on the other end of the line, but Rose was, in fact, authorized to access the account and request wire transfers. The supervisor of the supervisor of the original associate who was helping her seemed to understand that the recipient was a school and that it was for a good reason. Endowing educational institutions was always a good way to use wealth and banks had seen it quite often.

Upon arrival, after their four-hour journey from Long Island to southeastern Massachusetts, Rose and Jack were treated like royalty. They were given a tour and Jack was shown to his room—a nice corner room with two large windows. They were given a lovely lunch, made especially for the pair by request.

The wire transfer had come through the morning of their visit and the headmaster knew it was no joke. When asked if the endowment could be listed under her and her husband’s name, she paused and instead requested him to list it under Robert and Anne Napier, Jack’s real parents. The headmaster thought it was a fabulous idea and then explained what they would be able to use the money for.  

Listening to the man rattle on, Rose found herself zoning out as she worried about the life that awaited her upon her return to Long Island. She took refuge in the fact that Jack really seemed to like it in his new home—home for almost the next ten years—but she felt an incredible sense of guilt and shame that she was essentially abandoning him at the school’s doorstep with a big pile of cash.

As time went on, she found that life became easier and the guilt lifted to a degree. She admitted culpability for her husband’s murder, but the charges were dropped eight months later in favor of self defense. She thought momentarily that she could retrieve Jack from his new home. She received every letter that he wrote to her, every drawing that he sent... but she never responded. She wanted the little boy to forget everything about her and his Uncle William—particularly the fact that he had shot and killed him.

She thought she was doing the right thing. She kept everything that was precious to her from his room, with the Lego house he had built at the top of the list. She kept the boxes of old photo albums and his parents’ jewelry. She planned to send it to him. She planned to meet him. But she never did. The paralytic guilt ate at her until she pushed it out of her mind.

After the criminal charges were dropped, she felt that she was finally severed from William’s life. Of course, she received all of their assets as his wife and she held onto them thinking that someday she would pass it all along to Jack. She was aware of Jack’s educational trust fund, now four times its size due to the fact that he inherited trust money from his brothers and sisters.

However, before the beginning of his next school year, Rose relinquished guardianship of Jack and he became a ward of the state. She couldn't bear to be responsible for him and she didn’t believe she would be wise enough to make good decisions on his behalf. She had never even told her family that he was at one point her adoptive son. She was happy knowing that he was protected at his school instead of floating around in the foster system—or at least that’s how she justified it in her mind.

Rose re-married many years later and became Rose Richards, but she never had children. She returned to school and not only finished her Bachelor’s degree but proceeded to complete a Master’s in Social Work with a focus on child psychology. She felt that it was her life’s duty to protect children—especially since she felt that she failed massively at protecting Jack. She used some of the savings to develop a program for at-risk children and foster children by establishing and running a non-profit in the inner city of Gotham.

The scar on her stomach faded after the 30 years or so since it had been carved into her. At first, she saw it daily—the reminder, the guilt of it literally burning her flesh. She would become sick to her stomach as her husband soothed her and helped her get through the pain. But then it nearly disappeared as her body changed with age.

She followed Jack’s progress throughout the years with much delight. She saw that he had graduated from Fairford at the very top of his class in 1995. He clearly utilized his trust to continue his education after high school as she followed his progress to obtaining the highest level of degree—a doctorate with top honors in Chemistry in 2003. He was always so smart, Rose told herself, and she knew she could expect great things from him. To top it all off, he was a successful business man having created a small yet promising pharmaceutical company.

He had done so well for himself and she was so proud. She thought about writing a letter or showing up at his school or business, but it had been so long. He would hate her for leaving him all alone at that school with no one to hold him when he was sad.

The oppressive guilt paralyzed her. She was a reminder to his past—a past that she desperately wanted him to forget. She had moved on from William. She stopped thinking about his dead eyes on a daily basis long ago. But she never, ever stopped thinking about Jack.

Her heart stopped the day when she saw the news that a man had perished at Jack’s place of business. She saw the picture in the obituary. He was so handsome. He was only twenty-eight years old. She stared at the photo remembering his soft blue eyes and how they showed such emotion. Her heart broke in two when she learned that he had been engaged but his pregnant fiancée was murdered. And now this... his death. He just couldn’t seem to escape it, like it was the Napier curse, destined to die in some tragic way. She had reached out to the man named Nicholas in his obituary, finally meeting with him and lending him a photo album and copies of other documents for sentimental reasons. She wanted this man to know how special Jack was not only as a person but as a young child.

Rose continued her life as she had to. She thought less and less about Jack as time went on, but she felt his spirit always remained within her. She cried every single Christmas as she thought about all that the poor boy had gone through. He had survived so much only to die anyway. She wondered if she had kept him in her care, where would he be? Would he be alive? Would he be happy?

She comforted herself in the fact that Jack Napier was no monster. Not an inkling of his terrible uncle seemed to rear its ugly head. Her little Jackie led a good life, and that was all that mattered. He didn’t have to suffer anymore...

*****


	20. Chapter 20

Joker awoke in the darkness to the sound of raindrops on the roof of his SUV. He was so exhausted that he had slept for hours as he faced the gentle waves lapping against the wooden frame of the East River pier. He carefully gathered the photos from his lap and the floor where they had fallen and placed them into the brown envelope. For the first time in a long time, he felt sick to his stomach—the kind of sickness that is brought on by worry and anxiety. The last time he had truly remembered feeling this way was his last day on Earth as Jack Napier—just before he fell into the oozing vat of chemicals.

He held the lock of Harleen’s hair in his hands and thought about how lucky he was to have her—except now she was gone and he had nothing. He thought about her laugh, her smile, the way that she would cross her legs as she intently listened to him speak, hearkening back to the days when she was his therapist. In many ways, she still was his therapist. She was there for him and supported him without judgment when he was surely nothing but an acrimonious asshole. He now understood why he was this way. He understood the pain, the suppression of emotions, the hatred for society. The world was full of awful people—monsters—and, if you’re not one of them, then you will become trampled under their boots of oppression. It is better to be a monster than one of the oppressed, he had often thought.

He remembered his Uncle William. He remembered the look of absolute horror on his face as his heavy body fell on top of him, a gunshot wound in his neck and Rose screaming through the fabric in her mouth. The event was so terrible that his young brain repressed it in a cold, dark corner where it would only come alive during his nightmares.

He recalled those early days at Fairford where he had a hard time fitting in, still paralyzed by the fear that William would return to get him. He hated bedtime when he would lie in his bed and stare out of the two huge windows expecting to see a hideous face with a menacing smile looking in at him. He would read anything he could get his hands on just to avoid falling asleep and facing the nightmares. The man’s face persisted for almost a year until one day... he was gone.

Joker remembered the day with crystal clarity. It was the beginning of fourth grade and all of the boys were back on campus—some having gone on summer vacation with their parents in the south of France or Greece, a luxury that Jack didn’t the opportunity to partake in being one of the few students who stayed at the school year-round.

On that day, he and his classmates were out in a field practicing archery, something at which he had become quite skilled. The field was lively with thirty young boys in a mixture of grades—some were chatting about their summer excursions, some were chasing each other with arrows, and one teenager in particular was pushing around a boy about Jack’s age. He had seen him do it before and always to the younger kids—including Jack himself, who did his best to ignore the teen’s malicious words that slithered from between his teeth.

 _My family owns half of Martha’s Vineyard,_ he boasted. _My father’s the best heart surgeon the east coast. He was in a magazine—was your dad in a magazine? I’ve received private archery lessons—I bet I can beat any of you._

On this day, Jack was fed up. Fed up with the older boy. Fed up with being the youngest. Fed up with being bullied and watching others be bullied.

“If I beat you at a set, will you shut up?” Jack asked, withdrawing his once outstretched arm as he had intended to shoot at the target. There was a silence in the crowd as he turned to the teenager who pushed the child out of his way and stomped toward Jack.

“ _You...you_ think you are a better archer, you... pipsqueak?” the older boy asked.

“Jack, don’t piss off Travis,” one of the nearby boys said as another boy whistled in surprise.

“Yeah, I am better than you are... I guarantee it,” Jack announced confidently as he stared Travis in the eyes.

“Fine... If you win, I’ll shut up, but if _I_ win...” Travis said, pondering the thought for a moment, “If I win... you have to do my organic chemistry homework for an entire marking period.”

A murmur traveled through the growing crowd as the archery instructor approached.

“What’s goin’ on here, fellas?” the balding man asked. “We got a little friendly competition?”

“I guess you could say that,” Jack retorted as he looked up at Travis and smiled.

“All right, well, are we doing three or six?” the instructor asked.

“Three...” Travis replied, “because taking six is _practically_ _cheating._ ”

Jack rolled his eyes at the sound of the older boy’s voice and looked over at the dark-haired boy he had been bullying. He smiled sweetly at Jack and Jack smiled back.

“Oh... kay...” the instructor slowly responded to the young man who had a reputation for being arrogant and conceited—just like his father. “Jack, you’re on target three and, Travis, you’re on target four. Let’s get started!” he yelled, giving a quick blow on his whistle.

The boys raised their bows and pulled their elbows back simultaneously as they steadily concentrated on their targets. The crowd grew quiet and the boys released their arrows.

“Lucky,” Travis sneered at Jack as he noticed the younger boy made a bullseye in the center yellow ring while his own arrow was firmly planted in the next ring out.

The instructor whistled again. The boys took aim for a second time and shot at the target—both hitting the bullseye this time. Travis guffawed at his accomplishment until he saw Jack’s paper, arrow again in the center.

“You little cheat,” he accused him as he looked Jack up and down.

Jack remained silent as the instructor blew his whistle. He raised his third and final arrow, his breathing calm and his hands steady. His eyes were carefully trained on the bright yellow center of the target when he heard the older boy yell in an attempt to break his concentration.

 _Cheater!_ He could hear him say, but it was a futile effort. As if in slow motion, Jack’s hand released the arrow, its long thin body ripping through the air with such a force that it made an incredible thud as it hit the colorful target.

It was yet another bullseye.

Travis, knowing that he had lost without even firing his final arrow, looked at Jack and pushed him down to the ground.

“Travis!” the instructor censured him. “That is not sportsman-like conduct! Go straight to my office this instant!”

Travis stomped off toward the brick building in the distance as the crowd of boys applauded Jack’s incredible feat.

“You okay, son?” the instructor asked as he helped Jack up from the ground.

Jack shook his head up and down.

“Well, that’s some amazing work you did there. And don’t worry about Travis. He’s a hothead. I’ll talk some sense into him.” The man chuckled understanding rivalries such as these all too well—especially among super wealthy students where _everything_ is a contest.

“Hey, uh... thanks,” the child that Travis had been bullying walked up to Jack and held out his hand. “My name is Bruce,” he said as Jack grabbed his hand and shook it.

“I’m Jack,” he responded.

“That... that was really cool. Maybe you can show me how you did that sometime,” Bruce said with reverence in his voice. He pushed his nearly black hair out of his face and looked at Jack with cool blue eyes.

“It just takes a lot of practice, that’s for sure... I guess Travis should stop talking and practice more often,” Jack replied with a laugh causing his new friend to laugh.

Other boys continued to come up to Jack one by one and shake his hand or high five. _Nice job! That was amazing. Travis needed that. What grade are you in? You’re like Robin Hood or something._ Jack smiled as he became the center of attention on the field that day making friend after friend after friend.

He and Bruce soon became inseparable—they studied together, ate meals together, and played together. It marked the beginning of years of a blossoming friendship and the end of the nightmares that had plagued him. He pushed the horrible memories out of his mind and into the farthest corner that eventually made him wonder what was real about his childhood and what wasn’t.

Instead of dealing with the trauma of his past, his mind focused on what was happy and good about his new life, his new friends, and his new possible future. He eventually made many friends and enjoyed being the focus of the other boys’ attention, usually with his jokes and tricks. The class clown, they called him, and he loved it.

Bruce eventually left to go study in France when they were fifteen. Always interested in wanting to learn as much as he could of absolutely everything, Bruce jumped at the chance to go, even if it meant leaving his best friend behind. He had revealed to Jack that he had lost his parents years ago and they had always wanted him to see the world.

“I promise, I will see you again someday,” Bruce told him on the day he left campus, his bags packed and ready to go. A kind, older gentleman gathered them and placed them into the vehicle.

“How will you find me?” Jack asked, worried that he would never see his friend again.

“I guarantee I will find you when I come back,” Bruce said with conviction. “Now, don’t clown around too much or you’ll get in trouble!”

Jack smiled as he watched the car leave down the long drive through the acres of manicured lawn. He didn’t know if he would ever see him again in this lifetime, but he knew he would always appreciate the friendship that he had made with the boy named Bruce.

*****

Joker returned to the club and headed straight to his rear office as a few of his men made eye contact with him but said nothing.

“Tell Frost J is back,” Junior spoke into his phone as he watched Joker stride into his office and slam the door. “And he looks... pissed.”

A few minutes later, Frost knocked on the door and poked his head in. “J?”

Joker was standing at the wall filling a short glass full of cognac, his favorite liquor and the one Frost knew he would use to drown his sorrows in. Frost stepped into the room and closed the door behind him and said his name again.

“Please leave me alone,” Joker replied, still staring at the wall as he poured the liquor down his throat.

“J, I’m worried about you,” Frost said, his words soft and sincere. “I’m saying this as your friend. I know what you’re going to do here. You’re going to drink yourself into oblivion... I miss her too, but I’m trying my best to find—”

“Yeah?” Joker asked, cutting him off. “Yeah? And I’m doing nothing to fucking find her? Is that what you’re fucking saying?” He spun around to face Frost.

Frost stared at the shell of a man before him. In all of their years working together, he had never seen his friend like this. He was paler than usual and his face looked gaunt. He eyes were sunken and dark, and they looked bloodshot—as if he had been crying. He knew his friend had had very little sleep over the past two weeks.

“No, J. I’m not...” Frost sighed, not wanting to get into an unwinnable argument with the Joker. “I’m sorry. I’m just worried about you... You look just... awful.”

Joker grabbed his glass and the bottle of cognac and sat in his chair, downing the rest of his glass in one gulp and then pouring another shot. He stared at the brown envelope that he had thrown on his desk.

Frost watched the strange man in front of him examine the envelope. He wanted to ask about it but he also didn’t want to venture into that territory. He realized that it was clearly a touchy subject—enough to cause him to turn off his phone and leave for six hours only to return and start downing as much alcohol as he possible could. Frost had spoken with Miles privately—the only person to have looked in the envelope—about its contents.

 _Just a dozen or so old photos of a bunch of kids,_ he had been told. Frost knew they had to be photos of his childhood, which Joker never talked about. It must have stirred up old memories, he surmised, which is why he wanted to drink until it didn’t hurt anymore.

“I, um... I was going to go back to the house, do you want me to take you?” Frost asked as Joker continued to stare at his desk. He had seen Joker at his worst and he knew that he shouldn’t be left alone.

“Jonny...” Joker said with a chill in his voice. “Go. Leave me alone. I want to be alone. If I go back, I am perfectly capable of driving myself.”

“Okay, J,” Frost replied, trying to suppress his chagrin. “Just... just don’t let me find you on the street with a needle in your arm,” he said, reminding Joker of a seemingly ancient moment in time. He didn’t mean for it to come out like that, but he wanted to say it. He didn’t even know if his friend remembered it—he seemed to forget a lot of things. He paused to watch Joker fill his glass yet again. “Call me... If you need me, just call me...”

Joker watched his friend close the door as he left his office. He swallowed his drink and slammed the glass down on his desk. He knew Frost was right. He knew he was doing his best to help the situation. He just didn’t want to hear it right now. All he wanted was Harleen.

*****


	21. Chapter 21

Frost returned to the mansion and continued on his search through the list of names in an effort to locate Nick’s whereabouts.

“I could really use J’s help on this,” he grumbled aloud to himself as he looked at the list. “Who knows what name Nick could have used?”

He tried every permutation he could think of: Jack Napier, Harleen Quinzel, Harleen Napier, Nick Edwards, Nick Hughes, William Edwards, William Hughes, Wayne Edwards, Marcia Hughes, Jessica Napier... But he just couldn’t find any link to Joker. The list was comprised of thousands of names and he needed Joker’s keen eye to make the connection. Joker was the one who knew how Nick thought, how he enjoyed playing psychological games with the intent of always destroying what Joker cared about the most.

Frost leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling as he thought about the night when he was first introduced to the Joker...

*****

The air was silent and still on Manhattan Island’s East Side as Jonny Frost slid quietly and undetected into the fine jewelry store after midnight. Laptop bag on his shoulder, he immediately bypassed the darkened glass counters full of expensive diamond jewelry and headed straight toward the nearest computer terminal. It was a long-shot, but it wasn’t his first time either.

He lifted the mask from his face and pulled the laptop out of his bag, quickly getting to work plugging in cables, typing in the right keystrokes, and gaining access to the store’s mainframe. He now had control of the doors and the security system, which he skillfully disabled. He knew he was rushing against time and he tried to move quickly.

His hope was to hack into the store’s bank account and re-route funds into an account he had set up for himself, or for a shell company, rather, which would eventually make its way back to him. Frost had double-majored in both Computer Science and Economics and, after a personal setback, he realized that his brain would be best put to use to scam society than help it.

Frost was not always known as Frost. Not only did he want anonymity, but he felt that his original name had died with his wife. Jonny Frost was formerly known as James Wolfe, a strong German surname, which he had loved. But after his wife’s death, Frost found that he was not one for sentiment. He dropped the name and created a dozen new identities, currently landing on Jonny Frost at the moment.

He had never envisioned this type of life for himself. In fact, he thought he was set forever with his choice of vocation in IT development. Just out of Stanford, he was making a six-figure income as a newlywed. He and his wife were supposed to live happily ever after in their East Village home with two kids and a dog... or so was the plan.

One year after he was married—at the relatively young age of 24—his wife Amy succumbed to rare neurodegenerative disorder that eventually took her life. During her final year of life, Frost had battled with his insurance company to pay for an experimental treatment—the only one that had shown promise for her condition. The company refused as the treatment was not approved in the United States and was only available in Mexico. He was flat-out told that he would have to foot the bill himself—a bill that came in with more than a one million dollar price tag.

Frost did the only thing he could think of doing: He used his brilliant mind to steal money, slowly at first and then with more confidence, until he had enough to cover the cost of the treatment. However, just days before her scheduled trip southward, Amy’s condition grew worse and she was placed in hospice care. She died on the same day that she had been scheduled for her treatment out of the country.

Frost was completely devastated, as any doting husband would be, and he became withdrawn. He quit his job, fell out of contact with his family, and dropped off the grid. He moved to a meager apartment in Harlem that he filled with electronic equipment, hell-bent on taking whatever he could from those in power—which was usually money.

For the next two years, Frost worked his way into the criminal element of Gotham City and became somewhat of an enigma. He hid in the darkness as he grew his bank account with simple keystrokes behind his monitor. He became so good at what he did that he grew a little too cocky, especially with the introduction of a few new people on the streets, with one in particular being a man—perhaps a monster—known as The Joker. People began to cower in fear when they heard his name and Frost knew that they would eventually cross paths. He just didn’t realize it would be that very night.

“Who the fuck are you?” the man holding a gun to Frost’s temple asked. He had been quiet—possibly waiting in the dark watching the whole time—before approaching the unmasked Frost.

“Who the fuck am I?” Frost asked incredulously. “I’m the fucker who’s gonna knock this jewelry store for what it’s worth. Now, who the fuck are you?” He looked up at the man who was also wearing all black, covering nearly every inch of his skin.

“You, my friend,” the man said as he leaned down and smiled a huge silver smile, “can call me Joker.”

He pulled the ski mask from the top of his head with a flourish just after he said his name for dramatic effect. His face looked just like Frost had seen in the pictures—pale, scarred, and frightening with intense blue eyes, electric green hair, and dark red lips. He looked like he had stepped out of the pages of a comic book.

“So, uh, whatcha doin’ here?” he asked, looking at Frost’s open laptop as he still held the gun to his head.

“Well,” Frost said, trying to appear unfazed, “I’ve hacked into the security system and now I’m trying to get their bank account.” He didn’t know why he was telling the clownish monster-man this information, but he wanted it to sound nonchalant—as if his threatening gestures had no effect.

“Hm, so you’re saying that the security system is down right now?” Joker asked, his eyes brightening.

“Yep,” Frost replied casually.

Joker stood up, removing the end of his gun from Frost’s head and practically skipped over to a glass counter.

“So... you’re saying that if I do this...” Joker paused as Frost looked up at him. He pulled out a small bottle of liquid from his pocket and sprayed it on the heavy-duty glass counter. After a few moments of whistling, Joker then pulled out a hammer from another pocket and smashed it into the counter, shattering the heavy-duty glass into a million pieces. “It won’t set off any alarms?” he asked with glee as he reached into the display and pulled out a handful of diamond necklaces.

Frost looked at the emerald-coiffed man in awe. “How did you... That... is polycarbonate... It’s virtually indestructible,” he informed the Joker.

“Yeah, well, with the right chemicals, you can do just about anything...” he replied. “I should know a little something about that! Just don’t breathe too hard, this might fuck up your brain. I should know a little something about that, too!”

Frost examined the man’s face as he watched him lean in to evaluate the goods. He had heard the rumors that the Joker was born as a fully-grown man, rising up from the vat of chemicals that incubated him in his current adult form. He didn’t know what to think, but he did know that the more he looked at this person before him, the more he realized he really was just a man—not a monster. Underneath his histrionics and outlandish persona must exist a person who could potentially have the semblance of normalcy.

“Look, um...” Frost began as he stared as his computer screen, “I don’t know how to say this but I think we tripped a secondary sensor—a chemical sensor.”

“Aw, no! And here I was having so much fun!” Joker practically screamed as he collected everything he could into a small black duffel bag.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting you to bring a knife to a gunfight... Fuck, I wasn’t expecting you to be here at all,” Frost said, quickly collecting his computer equipment. “We have about two minutes before the police get here, so I suggest we get the fuck out.”

“Sounds like a plan, Frosty,” Joker said as he put his mask back on his head and started head toward the back office. “If you want to stay alive, follow me.”

Frost followed the slender man out of the back entrance into an alleyway where a black taxi cab was parked. Frost situated himself in the passenger side as Joker began to back out of the alley and onto the street where sirens could be heard approaching.

“How did you know that my name is Frost?” he asked.

Joker chuckled at the question. “Oh... I’ve had my eye on you for a while now, Frosty. I like the way you operate.”

“So, what, are you saying that you wanna become partners or something?” Frost asked in disbelief.

Joker pursed his lips and pretended to think. “Hm... not really... I’m not really that big into having a _business partner._  Been there, done that! But... I have a job that I’m planning and I think you could be useful to me...”

“Does it pay well?” Frost asked.

“Does it pay well...” Joker reflected his words in a mocking tone. “Yes, it will pay well. In fact, you can have all the proceeds!” Joker paused and narrowed his eyes as he drove. “I’m in it for the revenge,” he said, his voice deep and ominous.

“I can appreciate that...” Frost replied thinking about his deceased wife. “What’s the job?”

“I need to bring down an _old_ business partner—he’s a real asshole... You know the type!” Joker said as he smiled and glanced over at Frost.

“Well, I guess I’m in,” Frost responded, unsure why he was agreeing to the madman’s request. He needed a little spice in his life, he figured, and why not work with the most notorious criminal in the city?

“Good... Good... Something tells me that this is the start of a beautiful friendship,” Joker laughed as he pressed down the gas pedal and sped through the sparkling city.

*****

A vibrating cell phone broke Frost from his dream as he jerked forward in his chair. It was one in the morning and he had fallen asleep.

“Yeah?” he said hoarsely into the phone.

“Hey... sorry to bother you so late, but J’s drunk as a skunk. He came out onto the floor asking for someone named ‘Rose’ over and over... He stumbled around asking for a lap dance and then fell down onto a table,” Chubs explained on the other end. “We put him in the back office on a couch for the time being. Whaddya want us to do with him? Should we bring him to you?”

 _Hell no_ , Frost wanted to say. He knew he was not welcome in his presence right now and he wanted to keep his distance.

“No, just leave him there. That’s the best place for him,” Frost stated. “I’ll probably see him tomorrow—er, later today, I guess... Just let me know if anything else happens. I don’t care what time. Call if you need me.”

“Will do,” the man replied.

“Oh, and hey, Chubs...” Frost stated. “Can you do us a big favor and remove all of the bullets from J’s gun? I... I just think that would be for the best.”

“Sure, you got it, boss,” Chubs responded before hanging up.

Frost couldn’t help but chuckle. He had been roped into the strange world of the Joker by mere happenstance and here he was ten years later acting as his caretaker, his second-in-command, his rational brain, and, most importantly, his friend. It was a very strange world indeed.

*****


	22. Chapter 22

Harleen laid in what amounted to her prison cell and tried to sleep. At this point, she was using her expensive dress as a carefully balled-up pillow and whatever other clothing he had given her to cover up her exposed skin.

 _I will never take anything for granted ever again_ , she thought to herself. _If I ever get out of here, that is._

She felt herself moving through the stages of grief, though she knew that they were never discreet categories and were more fluid with each other. She had surpassed the stage of shock and denial and now floated somewhere between anger, bargaining, and depression.

She was angry—so angry—because she felt that she should have known better. She saw the van in the parking garage and how it looked suspicious. How did she let this man attack her and her friend? Why didn’t she use the moves that Joker had trained her with over the summer? What happened to Vanessa? Why couldn’t she protect her?

She found herself willing to bargain with the sick man who had held her captive. _Maybe if I just let him touch me, he’ll let me go,_ she thought to herself. _Maybe I should just give it up and tell him that I’ll stay with him. He doesn’t have to keep hurting me._ But she knew that his endgame was Joker and she was just a pawn.

She started spiraling into a deep depression from which she could not claw her way out of. She started not caring. _Why fight?_ The harder she resisted, the more he hurt her.

And then the videos— _the videos_ —they were the psychological icing on the cake. It wasn’t the fact that she was watching Joker’s relationship with his previous fiancée. She held no jealous feelings about it. In fact, it was the very opposite: She felt so sad that things didn’t work out in light of how wonderful they were together. She saw videos of a birthday party, a graduation party, playing piano, making love... among other random videos of a then-Jack being silly and making Jessica erupt into her lovely laugh that filled the room. He still did that, but it was different. He was somehow more carefree and less serious then, even though he was the happy-go-lucky “Joker” now. He had most certainly changed and she could completely understand why. To have all of that death and misery surround you... it is bound to change who you are as a person.

Harleen laid on the hard ground and thought about how much pain she had experienced in her own life—though nothing compared to Joker’s. Until now, some of the greatest pain she experienced was her internal struggle in just the past year since meeting Joker.

She had fallen in love with him—she couldn’t avoid it. She broke about a dozen laws and should have lost her license when she helped him escape from Arkham. Soon thereafter, she was assaulted by a revolting man in Joker’s club just before watching him be beaten to death at the hands of Joker. She then killed a man herself—a man who was not only her colleague and supervisor but also Nick's father—in order to save Joker from certain death. It was that act that pushed her over the edge for quite some time.

Who was she as a person if she could so easily kill another living being and walk away from it without turning herself in? She felt she had started to become too good at compartmentalizing—something Joker excelled at.

And before it all was the death of her father, Frank—an event that shook her to her very core at the tender age of fifteen. She remembered moving through the stages of grief for his death then just as she was most assuredly moving through the same stages for her own eventual death now.

She always knew that there was something a little “off” with her father, but it was a big secret that the family didn’t want to talk about. Her mother told her that when her father was in his 20s, he was in a car accident and had to have surgery on his arm. She explained to Harleen that he was never quite the same after that accident...

Her father was concerned that they had implanted a chip into his body during the surgery—a chip that was placed there by the government to monitor him. He was insistent that he wanted to have his once-injured arm completely removed because the chip inside was telling him things—negative things about himself and his family. Harleen remembered days when she was not allowed to use the phone because her father truly believed that people were out to get them and they had tapped into the phone lines.

Despite his illness, she had always admired her father to keep pushing forward and to keep working. Frank Quinzel was a civil engineer and had worked on many projects around the city—projects that Harleen was so proud of her dad for facilitating.

She remembered the day she learned about her father's sudden hospitalization. Her grandmother surprisingly greeted her outside of her school and they walked home together, learning a little bit more about her father's mental condition. She wasn’t told much, but she understood that her father had an extended outburst at a worksite—most likely about his paranoid concerns and his suspected invasion of privacy by government officials. Her adult family members didn’t think she knew much, especially since they kept it so hidden and swept as much of it under the rug, but Harleen knew enough. She knew her father was ill, so it didn’t come as much of a surprise to her to know that he was placed in the hospital—probably kicking and screaming.

But what _was_ a surprise was his suicide. She never thought that would happen. Before he could be placed into an actual psychiatric ward with appropriate safeguards in place, Frank killed choked himself to death on his IV tube. Harleen’s mother was in denial for some time, but Harleen moved quickly past denial and onto anger. She was angry that he wasn’t taken care of in the hospital. She was angry that her family hid his problems from her.

It was the single most important moment in her young life that catalyzed her into action. Though heavily into gymnastics, she decided to attend college and study psychology, thus learning all about the hidden illness that befell her father. She felt inwardly relieved when she reached 25 years old—the age after which people would be unlikely to develop schizophrenia, as stated in one of her psychology textbooks. She partied a little harder on that birthday thinking that she was off the hook.

But she always carried the anger with her. It was the anger that kept her going—the anger that made her the doctor that she was today—and she knew she needed to harness that if she were to survive her current situation.

*****

“Harleen!” the sickeningly sweet voice called to her as his tall outline was silhouetted in the orange light. “Harleen, it’s time for your medicine!”

Harleen woke up in pain. It was always pain. When she was asleep, she would dream that she was in a bed—a soft, warm bed—and that Joker was there with her... just lying with her, listening to her talk and stroking her hair. She missed everything about him. His tender touch. His smooth hair. His soft lips. His strong muscles. His slender frame. His eyes as blue as the sea.

Pulling her from her thoughts, Nick walked into the room and quickly stabbed her with a needle. Turning around to leave, he said, “Today might be the day that I show you my favorite video of all! I can’t wait... you’re going to love it!”

Something told her that she was most assuredly _not_ going to “love” today’s video. She couldn’t imagine what it would be.

If only she had listened to Joker when he pleaded with her two weeks ago. _Don’t go out,_ he had asked her. The words reverberated loudly in her head as if she were standing in the room watching him on the edge of the bed as she got dressed.

She remembered how concerned and positively exasperated he was when she came home to find him waiting for her in the garage behind the mansion. It was the evening of her alleyway assault and one of his men had informed him that she had been assaulted and nearly mugged.

“Harley!” he practically screamed as she stepped out of the car. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you go out alone!”

“I’m a grown woman, J!” she yelled back. “Maybe I should carry a gun in my purse!”

“Or maybe...” he retorted, his words dripping in ferocity, “Maybe someone should follow you at all times... Or maybe _I_ should be with you at all times!”

“J, we can’t always do everything together! Maybe I need you to show me how to protect myself a little bit better instead of turning every session where you teach my how to fight into a... into a fuck-fest!” Harleen screamed at him.

She quickly turned on her heel and marched into the building, pressing her finger on the screen to call the elevator as he followed her and watched. Frost poked his head out of his office, having heard every word shouted between the two. Joker caught his eye and growled.

“Fucking women,” Joker said as he walked toward Frost. “Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em.”

“I hear ya, J,” Frost responded. “She does have a point, though. You know, about the fighting lessons and even the gun. I mean, I even met a woman a while back who was really good with that kind of stuff. She had moves like a cat. Maybe she could whip Harleen into shape. You know... without it turning into a ' _fuck-fest_.'”

Joker stared at Frost as he seethed through his silver teeth.

“I mean, not that that’s necessarily a _bad_ thing,” Frost continued coyly as he looked away and then laughed.

If the thought amused Joker, he didn’t let it show. “I gotta go talk to her,” Joker stated without affect.

“Just be mindful!” Frost yelled out as Joker headed to the elevator.

He went up to the third floor where their section of personal living space existed. Joker barged into the bedroom, fully expecting to see Harleen sitting on her bed with her face in her phone. He checked the media room, her art room, the kitchen, the gym... He could not find her. He gritted his teeth as he realized where she must be—the pool on the top floor.

Joker made his way up the stair steps to the pool where Harleen lay floating on top of the water.

“Harley?” he called out to her with no response. “Harley...”

She did not respond as she stared up at the beautiful dark sky through the glass ceiling.

“Harleen!” he yelled this time.

“What? What do you want?” Harleen brought her ears out of the water and spoke the words with vitriol and then immediately regretted her tone. She knew he cared for her, but she also knew that he had a tendency to be a little too controlling. Joker was _always_ in control of situations. And if he weren’t, then he quickly got the upper-hand. But Harleen didn’t want to be yet another element beneath his jurisdiction; she wanted to be his equal. She found that she was his equal for the most part until situations like this.

Joker removed his clothing, stripping completely as Harleen continued to stare at the black sky above. She knew what he was doing and refused to look over, knowing that the sight of his slender and muscular body would educe a reaction from within her. She didn’t want to think about it right now. She just wanted to sulk.

Harleen’s body bobbed in the water as the disturbance created by Joker reached her with him following closely behind. She closed her eyes and relaxed as she floated on top of the surface, the water still covering her ears, making it impossible to hear anything other than muted and garbled speech.

But Joker didn’t speak a word. He stood in the warm water and watched the woman before him float effortlessly, examining the strong muscles in her stomach and legs. She clearly got into the pool in a rush having not changed into a swimsuit. Her chest moved up and down as she breathed in and out. Joker admired the smooth curve of her breasts in her dark pink bra. Her face looked serene as she drifted listlessly on the surface of the water, her long blonde hair waterlogged and sprawled out around her head like thin, golden tentacles. He couldn’t bear to have anything happen to this woman—his life was inextricably intertwined with hers. She knew so much about him—far more than he had ever shared with anyone else since his transformation into The Joker—and yet she still knew so little.

He sighed as he lowered himself into the water at her side, his head now on level with hers. He wanted to touch her, to hold her, to tell her that he would do anything to protect her. He failed a woman he loved once and he would be damned to have it happen again. He leaned in and kissed her gently on the forehead, taking a chance that the gesture wouldn’t upset her.

Her eyes flew open immediately as she felt his soft lips on her skin. Ever since his time in Arkham—particularly the night she promised to help him break free—a kiss on the forehead was one that was imbued with the sense of deep concern and care. She knew that Joker loved her and she knew that he would do anything for her, but she was still shaken by not only the fact that his insistence on being over-protective was interfering with her independence as a grown woman but also the fact that perhaps she was not as independent as she thought she could be. Harleen twisted her body and kneeled in the water as she faced the naked man before her.

“I’m sorry...” Joker admitted softly as he reached for her shoulders and pulled her closer. “I... I love you, Harley. I would die if anything happened to you...”

At that moment, Harleen burst into tears and extricated herself from his embrace. She attempted to quickly walk through the resistant water toward the stairs leading out of the pool when Joker followed and grabbed her from behind, their bodies half-emerged.

“Kitten, please...” he pleaded with her. “Please...”

It was the word _please_ that had always gotten to her when Joker spoke it. A powerful man like him never needed to say the word _please_ to anyone to get what he wanted, and yet he spoke it to Harleen like a man in need. He respected Harleen to the point that he would get on his hands and knees and beg for her forgiveness if he had to. She turned and sat on the steps and Joker planted himself next to her as she stared forward into the calming water of the pool.

“I... I was scared, J...” she finally spoke, still staring across the blue water. “After everything you taught me, I still got scared... But I knocked him down and got away... You’d be proud of me.”

“I _am_ proud of you, Harley,” he responded. “I told you before that you are the strongest person that I know and I mean it.” He pulled her hand up to his mouth and kissed it tenderly. “I _do_ trust you... it’s everyone else I don’t trust.”

She looked into his blue eyes—the same blue eyes that she looked into many times before to see flashes of pain and love and anger and happiness and lust—and saw sincere concern. If he had had eyebrows, they would have been turned up in the center to demonstrate his worry for her. She thought of how he must have looked the night he learned that his fiancée and their unborn child had perished at the hands of their attacker—his eyes full of anguish and remorse. She never wanted to make him feel that way. She wasn’t sure if he could handle that kind of pain again.

Harleen leaned in and kissed him on his lips to which he responded with passion. Their hands roamed each other’s bodies as their mouths sucked and their tongues swirled. She cursed the fact that he had always made her feel this way—under his spell at all times no matter how hard she tried to convince herself that she had her own free will. The misplaced anger she had felt toward him had started to evaporate and only anger toward herself remained. Her hands held tightly onto his chiseled upper arms—one of her favorite parts of his body—and she felt the muscles contracting, creating sexy divots and tight sections of definition as he held her securely in place. Her hand traveled down to his pelvis, where the well-defined v-shaped muscles of his lower abdomen led her directly to the prize, which was rigid and ready.

“See what you do to me, kitten?” he asked as her hand softly gripped his hard cock. “Stand up and let me take off those panties...” he commanded quietly in her ear, his breath hot and heavy on her neck.

Obeying his wishes, Harleen lifted herself out of the water and stood in front of Joker as he surveyed the curves of her body. His hands moved up her thighs and reached for the waistband of her underpants, which he pulled down into the water with a splash. Harleen stepped out of them and they quietly drifted away from her legs and she leaned into Joker, straddling him with a knee on each side of his body.

They kissed as she lowered herself onto him, a gasp and moan erupting from his lips as he invaded her soft, warm entrance. He held her tight as he pulled her body even closer to his, their gyrations causing the water to lap against the sides of the pool. He closed his eyes and drew her in for a passionate kiss as he pushed himself deeper into her body. He knew he had exposed his vulnerabilities to her more often than he had wanted to but he knew that she understood him and even loved him for who he was. He would never make another connection like this with anyone, and he knew he had to protect her at all costs.

*****

Harleen’s heavy eyes fluttered open as she realized that she was seated in the ever-too-familiar wheelchair under the sharp light of Nick’s utility lamp.

“Ah! You’re awake!” he said in a chipper voice. “How nice of you to join us...” His voice trailed off as he looked at her. “You haven’t been eating much,” he said with almost a hint of concern in his voice. “We need to make sure the baby is strong and healthy, so you need to be sure to eat!”

Harleen’s head remained languidly turned to the side as her eyes followed Nick around the small, cold room. She looked at the dark strips of plastic hanging on the walls that she had studied for what seemed like a thousand years. She knew that the thick, opaque plastic blocked out the light in whatever room of whatever building she was located in. She knew she had to be somewhere industrial because everything around her was metal. The floor was a cold, dark steel with alternating imprints. The table, carts, and chairs looked ancient—like they were from an old factory. And her room included furnishings and fixtures that were not typical for a house—old subway tile on the walls, a long toilet without a tank like the kind in public facilities, and a layer of grunge and filth that indicated that she was somewhere industrial.

On his table were plenty of accoutrements like knives and guns that Nick would occasionally grab and shove in Harleen’s face. She also noticed a small saucer with her ring, which she so desperately wanted to feel on her finger. His cane, which he never seemed to need, was resting on the side of the table. He had his framed picture, an old photo album, and finished containers of soft drinks.

He also had a pair of binoculars on the far edge of his table. _Who or what was he watching?_ She never saw him leave the room. Her world for the past two weeks consisted solely of the two rooms of this dungeon.

“You never asked me what I’m injecting you with,” Nick notified Harleen, breaking her concentration.

Had she more strength, she would have rolled her eyes and spat out a curse word, but she remained stationary in her seat, her lips nearly sealed together in their dryness.

“Don’t you want to know?” he asked her, trying to engage her in conversation.

“You wouldn’t even tell me if I asked,” she responded, pulling her cracked lips apart to speak.

“Oh, don’t be so sure about that, peaches,” he said in a cheerful tone. “And here I thought we were friends...” He turned to grab another item on the table and looked at it closely.

“ _Friends_?” Harleen asked. She was flabbergasted by the man’s audacity. “Friends don’t tie up other friends, inject them with unknown fluids, and nearly starve them to death!”

Nick paused and looked over at Harleen. “All in good time, Harleen,” he replied with a sickly smooth sweetness in his voice—the same kind that she had heard his father use when she would approach him during a supervision session as his subordinate. “You know what I like about you, Harleen?” He paused as he waited for her answer.

“No, I don’t know. What...” she said without color in her voice.

“Hm... I like the fact that you seem to have accepted your new situation. I know that it’s hard on you... I know that most women would have probably broken within the first few days. But you, Harleen... You are special. I can see why Jackie likes you so much.” He grabbed a vial from the table and poked a syringe into its soft lid, extracting all of the liquid and pulling it up into the tube.

“See this?” he asked as he approached her with the syringe. “This is the future. I’m serious... This is so exciting.” He stood and stared at the clear liquid in the tube as he slowly spun it in his fingers.

Harleen thought about his words—how she had somehow _accepted_ her situation. She never accepted it, she knew this much, but she was waiting for the right moment. She was watching and learning, she was calculating her moves—what little moves she had.

She had thought a lot about her stages of grief and how she should approach her situation from a clinical standpoint. _Don’t react,_ she told herself. _Use your anger in constructive ways. Focus on the positive. And, most importantly, don’t lose yourself._ These were all nearly impossible tasks for her to achieve, but she was a strong person—which Joker had told her so on many occasions—and she knew she couldn’t let him down or herself down by not living up to his expectations.

She considered Nick’s comment about their so-called friendship, and she was struck with the thought that it might be the way to crack him. She had tried fighting back, she had tried ignoring him, she tried showing how disgusted she was... but she had never shown him interest. Harleen recalled his braggadocio comments in past two weeks and her psychology training began to kick in. She could lure anything she wanted to out of this man just by giving him a little attention and showing him some interest. She had already labeled him as having Narcissistic Personality Disorder and she knew just how to feed into it.

“What is it?” she asked the dark-haired man standing in front of her. “It can’t really be that special, can it?” She knew that by framing her question as a doubt he would be compelled to talk to her.

“Oh, ho, ho, baby!” Nick guffawed. “This here is legit science... I started working on it way back when. In fact, you’ve probably seen some of my handiwork.” Nick snorted at his last statement.

“What do you mean? What is it?” Harleen asked, pretending to be curious when all she wanted to do was stab him in the eye with the needle.

“Well...” he answered, “this here is literally the edge of technology—the forefront of science. Have you ever heard of genetic therapy?”

“Yes, of course,” she replied, now truly curious about his creation.

“Good... Well, this in my hand is a viral vector, which I can use to genetically modify nearly any genetic expression. I could change your hair color, I could change the melanin level in your skin, I could make your eyes bioluminescent if I wanted to.”

“Wait,” Harleen said as she began to put the pieces together, “are you saying that you used this kind of... viral concoction... on Jack Napier when he died?” She could barely believe the ridiculousness of the words that had fallen from her lips.

“Oh, indeed, sweet Harleen... Indeed,” he stated. “You’ve probably noticed that your, uh, fiancé, does look a little stranger than the rest of the male population...” Nick giggled in a light-hearted way. “What was his story to you? That he fell into a vat of chemicals and then—boom!—he woke up the next day as the one and only Joker?” He began to laugh maniacally.

“He... told me that he thought the chemicals were to blame for his change in appearance... he never knew how, he just knew...” Harleen replied to Nick who had by now placed the syringe on the table and was standing with his hand on his hips, his head dramatically tilted back as he looked at the ceiling. He began to howl with laughter.

“What an idiot!” he exclaimed. “A complete fucking moron! This is why Jack was always better at the business aspect— _I_ was the smarter one when it came to the chemistry, or at least the _biochemistry._ ” He sat down in his chair—an old office chair covered in sparkling green vinyl—and spun around happily. “Harleen,” he began his lesson, “there is no way that someone can fall into a vat of chemicals and it... somehow changes your genetic code or something. It doesn’t work that way. What the fuck!”

Harleen watched him for a moment in his revelry and continued to press him for more information. “So, what _was_ in the vat, then?”

“Oh, very good question,” he replied with a glint in his eye. “It was to be my hallmark—my magnus opus. I called it... Smilex. I designed it for people who had mental problems—actually Jack and I both designed it, so, I mean, I can’t take _all_ the credit. But the concept was mine. I’m sure you worked with my dad at Arkham, right? Before ‘The Joker’ and his men killed him... _motherfuckers_...” His voice turned sour and his lips tensed at his final word.

Harleen thought for a moment and realized that Nick had no inkling that she was truly the one responsible for his father Wayne Edwards’ death. Her heart raced as she remembered the smoky room where Joker had fought against Wayne and Winston, an abusive guard from Arkham. Wayne had a weapon trained directly on Joker when she found the courage to grab the forgotten gun lying next to her and shoot both of the men in the head. They never expected her—a _doctor_ with an oath to protect—to shoot and kill.

She remembered the moment of impact as if it happened in slow-motion. The bullet hit his skull and sent a shower of dark liquid all over the room. He had no time to react. He was dead in an instant—both men were. Joker sat up with a look of shock on his face, never expecting his angelic Harley to commit something so heinous.

The act affected her psyche for some time and she eventually left Joker and the mansion for almost two months in an attempt to retreat back to her old life and deal with the guilt it caused. But, on nights when she couldn’t sleep, she admitted to herself that she was glad she did it—she was glad she killed the two men. She would do anything to protect Joker and she drew strength from that.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” she lied. “He was a pleasure to work with.” She lied again.

“Yeah, well, he was a dick... Both him and my mom,” Nick responded. “Anyway, I did an off-the-books trial of Smilex at Arkham back in the day—back when Jack was sulking about his dead girlfriend.”

“Fiancée,” Harleen corrected him.

Nick looked over at her with slight annoyance. “ _Fee-yon-say_ ,” he said, drawing out each syllable as he rolled his eyes.

“So did the trial work?” Harleen asked, ignoring his retort.

“Sorta... we thought...” he said, sticking out his bottom lip in pensive thought. “It turned out that it might have turned up the crazy a little bit more than it cured it, _buuuuut_... that’s neither here nor there.”

“What do you mean by that?” she inquired, interested to know the answer.

“I mean that instead of making people _happy_ —which they were—it also made them a little more delusional and uninhibited in their thoughts,” he explained. “For example, there was some idiot who thought he could control a gang with a sock puppet, another one who thought he had eyeballs on the ends of his fingers, a guy who thought he could force himself into a death trance, some dude who thought he was made of clay, another one who thought he was an alligator... I mean, the list goes on. They were pretty fucking ridiculous.” Nick’s cheeks filled with air and he snorted with laughter, eventually throwing his head back and cackling maniacally. “Can you believe that bullshit?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty ridiculous,” Harleen said somewhat sincerely. However, having seen the inside of facilities like Arkham and having worked directly with patients who had disorders like the ones he mentioned, she couldn’t help but feel anger that his drug—his panacea—ended up changing the brains of people. She wondered how it had affected Jack’s mind when he fell into the vat. “So... are you saying that maybe your Smilex messed up Joker... er, Jack?”

“Oh, for sure,” he responded as if he were a scientist being interviewed for a journal publication. “When someone falls into a big vat of warm chemical goo, the chemicals are going to start working their way through every mucous membrane they can find—eyes, nose, mouth—you name it. Thing is, I’ve heard stories about how ‘ _The Joker’_ was ‘ _created’_ and none of it makes sense... First of all, it was a fucking base, not an acid. Second of all, falling in isn’t going to change the way you _look,_ but it could change the way your brain operates. And third... third... that motherfucker ruined my entire batch of Smilex by falling in.”

“Well, you pushed him in, if I know the story correctly,” Harleen pointed out.

Nick pushed his hand through his long, dark hair and smiled. “Yeah, I guess I did push him in, didn’t I?” he asked with a chuckle.

“So, what are you saying... that... that... you injected Jack with some kind of... viral vector—or whatever you called it—and that’s what made him change physically? But then you kicked him into the chemicals and it... it... fucked with his mind?” Harleen asked as she tried to wrap her head around what the man was telling her.

“You got it, toots. I injected him quite a few times, in fact, just to make sure,” he said gleefully.

“But... how did you get his hair to change green and his skin to lighten?” Harleen was bewildered by the thought.

“Honestly, I have no idea how the green hair happened. I have no... fucking... clue. I _did_ throw a few things into the mix... The skin was a simple allele replacement to fuck with his melanin production. Looks like it worked, too. I also noticed that he seems to have lost all of his body hair except for that on his head...” A devious smirk traveled across his lips as he spoke. “Tell me, Harleen, is he hairless ‘down there’ or is it green, too?”

Harleen’s face became stone as he burst into laughter.

“No wait... wait... don’t tell me... I don’t wanna know!” he shrieked as he wiped tears of delight from his eyes.

Harleen waited until Nick’s laughter stopped and nodded toward the table. “So, that syringe over there, you’ve been injecting me with a viral vector? What... what’s in it?”

“Oh, that? Well... ever since I learned that my experiment worked with Jack, I’ve been _dying_ to try it out on someone else. Do you know how hard it is and how expensive it is to get your hands on a vector like that? Anyway... once I saw you, Harleen, standing in that cemetery... I wanted to turn you into an angel. Maybe you will grow the wings of a bird. You remember the birds, right?” he asked as he noticed a twitch in Harleen’s eye.

She remembered the birds... all too well. She remembered the painful sounds they made as they lived out their final moments—one wing missing—in the bottom of a trash bin just feet away from her. She had tried to push the agonizing squawking noise out of her brain and she swore she could still hear it throughout the night as they lay at the bottom of the bag, desperately trying to fight their way out. Right now, she felt like a wingless bird, unable to fight, unable to fly away to safety.

“Yes...” she answered, always being sure to answer his questions.

“I thought you would,” he replied, his voice repugnant to Harleen. “Anyway, it’s time for your treatment!” He grabbed the syringe and injected it into a vein inside of her elbow.

*****


	23. Chapter 23

Joker opened his heavy eyelids and tried to focus on the nearest object, not knowing exactly where he was. He quickly realized that he was in his inner office at the club and he had fallen asleep on the couch.

He groaned audibly as he sat up, an intense ache pounding away on the inside of his skull. He reached for a bottle of bourbon that he had left on his desk the night before and held the cool glass in his hand before setting it back down.

It was now day thirteen since Harleen had been gone. Thirteen days and what had he done to find her? He pulled the gun out of his holster and looked at it. He could easily end it all. Swallow a bullet right there. But as soon as the thought entered his mind, it had escaped. He replaced the gun back into his holster and headed to the private bathroom just inside of his office.

Returning to the room, which reeked of liquor and sweat, he sat down in his chair and looked at his phone. It was already past noon and the phone was quiet with no messages. _Frost must have told everyone to be radio silent with me,_ he thought as he pressed the button to call his second-in-command.

“J?” Frost answered. “How... are you feeling?” He could tell that Frost was a little anxious.

“Not... too hot,” Joker replied, not entirely sure what transpired in the past twelve hours. “Did you happen to find anything?”

“Not yet, but I’m trying. I sent a few guys out on some leads, but nothing promising. There’s someone named Marcia Hunt who has a dog grooming company in Harlem, someone just named William Edwards up in Connecticut—but I think that’s too obvious—and someone named Jack Hughes over in Jersey City. I’m also looking at all possibilities over in Astoria just to rule out that location,” Frost explained. “But I haven’t found any leads yet.”

“Okay... Email me the list so I can look at it.”

“Already done, J,” Frost responded, always trying to anticipate Joker’s needs.

“Good... So, have you heard from Fritz?” Joker asked.

“No, not since we left him up in Briarcliff. Amazing how he got the family to move out of their house, though. Like you said, everyone has a price...” Frost remarked into the phone.

“All right, I’m going to give him a call... I’ll have him check the house again,” he said. “And Frost? Keep me posted.”

“Will do.”

Joker ended the call and immediately dialed Fritz.

“Fritz, I need you to check the house again. Look through all of the old files, paperwork—whatever you can get your hands on. Just look for anything that has any reference to William Nicholas Edwards,” Joker instructed the man.

“You got it, boss,” Fritz replied, more than willing to break into the house and search for clues.

He had spent the past thirteen days on a stakeout, having purchased the house from the family across the street—complete with furnishings—for three million dollars in cash wired directly to their bank account from his own, which was, of course, reimbursed by Joker. He was excited to see a little bit of action.

"Frenchie," he yelled to his stakeout partner after he hung up the phone. "Keep an eye out... I'm going to go do a bit of exploring."

*****

“Harleen, my peach,” Nick said as he wheeled the weakened woman out of her room and next to his table. He had allowed her to sleep for almost six hours—a record amount—before waking her. “I really liked our discussion last night—or should I say early this morning... And I think I’m ready to share something with you that I think you’ll love.”

Harleen’s stomach turned. What Nick’s perception of her interests and the reality of them were vastly different.

“I have been saving this video for a special moment, and I think now is the right time,” he stated with a bit of a smile on his face. He scrolled through a folder on his laptop as his face switched from carefree to furious. “You know, if only Jessica had loved me back when we were teens, we wouldn’t be in this mess. It’s all her fucking fault.”

Harleen watched him as he justified blaming the victim for all of the things she failed to do.

“I worshipped the ground she walked on,” he told her. “I don’t know why she didn’t see it.”

“What happened back then, back when you were teens?” Harleen asked, giving him a wide berth in which to answer the question but also trying to make him feel comfortable divulging information.

Nick continued scrolling as he contemplated her question. “I wanted her. She didn’t want me. I tried to kiss her and she pushed me away, so I smashed her face with my fist. She had to have surgery to fix her jaw, but she survived. Fucking bitch took me through the court system, but it helps when you have a dad who’s a doctor. I basically got a slap on the wrist and a sealed record,” he said, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Then I went through a bit of a transformation myself. I lost the nerd glasses, I grew my hair long, I went to the gym, I changed my name...” He looked down and held up his bicep, flexing it as if Harleen would enjoy it. “I went to college where I had a lot of fun chasing the girls... And then I found that she was attending law school. I wanted to go to grad school anyway, so it seemed like a good opportunity.”

“So, you decided to enroll in grad school just to be near Jessica?” Harleen attempted to ask without being judgmental. _Rule number one,_ she reminded herself _, exhibit unconditional positive regard for the patient._ As much as she was disgusted by the motivations for his decisions, she couldn’t let on that she was absolutely sickened by his actions.

“Well, yeah, Jess and I were in love...” he said, crossing his arms again.

Harleen could not believe how delusional the man was. “But, she ended up with Jack and not you. How... how did that happen?" Harleen dared to ask.

“Well... Jack and I were enrolled in the same classes and we had to work together a whole lot. Those were the days,” he said wistfully. “One day, we were sitting at a table outside of the student union when I saw Jess—I knew her daily schedule, so I always knew where she would be anyway... So this particular day, she walks over the big cork board where people could post stuff they were selling and I just dared Jack to go talk to her. She didn’t even recognize me.”

“Then what happened?” Harleen asked.

“Well, the son of a bitch ended up sweet-talkin’ _my_ girl into a date and three years later, they were engaged with a fucking baby on the way,” Nick said with an acerbic tongue as he thought about Jack with his girl.

“That... that must have been hard on you,” Harleen said, trying to build empathy with Nick. “I mean, hard to see their relationship unfold while you were certain that she would be with you.”

“Yeah, well, I won out in the end, didn’t I?” he said as he narrowed his eyed and double clicked on a file. “Watch this.” He turned the laptop to Harleen and maximized the video.

“ _Nicky_ ,” a voice was heard off camera. The image was dark and the voice belonged to Jessica. Harleen could pick her voice out in a crowd of a million people by now if she had been asked to. “What are you doing here? Jack told me that you had some big investor meeting or something.”

“Oh, that, yeah, it ended early,” Nick said. “I just wanted to stop by to, um, see how you were doing, you know, being seven months pregnant and all. When is he due?”

“We’re due May fifth,” Jessica said, the image still black. “Kinda scary...”

“Yeah, but that’s Cinco de Mayo—I’ll drink some tequila for you and... well, what’s his name?” Nick asked.

“We’re not sure... We still haven’t landed on a name,” she explained. “I’ve always liked the name Derek, and Jack really likes the name Bruce, but my mom has other ideas for a name, so...”

“Bruce, that’s a good name,” Nick said. “Sounds like a real strong name, like he could take over the world or something... Bruce Napier.”

There was a pause and the sound became garbled as the microphone moved against fabric.

“Oh, speaking of drinks, do you want anything? Water? Orange juice? Sorry, we don’t have any liquor—Jack’s not a big drinker at all,” Jessica told him.

Suddenly, an image appeared of Jessica standing against a kitchen island wearing a pretty yellow flowing top that showed off her fairly large baby bump and skin tight jeans that followed her long legs down to a pair of wedge sandals. Nick stepped into the frame and approached her.

“Is that a new camera?” she asked.

“Jess,” Nick said, touching her belly, “this could have been ours together...”

Jessica laughed nervously. “What are you talking about?”

Nick then slapped the woman in the face, causing her to cry out and fall against the island counter. She began to call out his name in protest as he grabbed her wrists and wrestled her to the floor, their bodies still in the frame. He slapped her again and then punched her as she continued to put up a struggle.

Harleen closed her eyes, not wanting to see what was about to happen when she felt Nick’s hand slap her across her _own_ face with great force.

“You will watch this! It’s my masterpiece!” Nick yelled at her. “Don’t you dare close your eyes!”

Harleen opened her eyes as he resumed the video of Jessica resisting under his weight.

“The baby! You’re gonna hurt the baby!” she yelled as he quickly covered her mouth with his hand. 

“Shut up, _Jessica._.. You and your fucking baby. Jack’s baby. This should be _my_ baby!” he yelled.

“Why do you keep saying that?” she tried to scream back as she thrashed beneath him.

“I can’t believe you don’t remember me... We were meant to _be_ together...” Nick said ominously.

“Wha... Wha...” Jessica stuttered, clearly attempting to put the pieces together. Harleen could see the moment of realization sweep across her shocked face. “Billy... Billy Edwards? Oh, my god, _Billy Edwards_?!” she could be heard yelling as she started to struggle again. “Jack! Jack! Help me! Jack!”

Her cries for Jack were the last words the woman would ever speak as Nick pulled a knife from his back pocket, unsheathed it with his mouth, and began to stab her in the side of the stomach.

With each thrust into her belly, Jessica made an anguished wail—the likes of which Harleen had never heard before. Harleen could see how she had tried her best under the man’s weight to push him off as her one free hand became caught on the sharp blade. The sound of the knife penetrating her skin over and over again was indescribable. Nick eventually removed himself from her body and plunged the knife several times directly onto the front part of her stomach, the blood now pooling around her dying body.

As if stabbing a pregnant woman were not enough, Nick then did the unthinkable. He placed the knife onto the floor and lifted himself into a kneeling position beside her. He then unzipped her jeans and pulled them down to her knees along with her underwear where he grabbed the knife again and cut them down the center, leaving her legs wide open and the lower half of her body naked and exposed. Placing the knife on the ground again, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small square package.

“I’m going to take what you should have given me all those years ago,” Nick could be heard saying to Jessica’s now lifeless body as he pulled his pants down.

Harleen thankfully could not see any details at his angle, but she watched as he placed the condom on himself before leaning onto the dead woman’s body and raping her, slamming his pelvis in and out while grunting. Within twenty seconds, he was finished, pulling out to leave her bloody and defiled body on the floor.

He was off camera for a short period of time to clean himself up until he re-emerged into the frame to grab his knife. He stood over her body momentarily and then leaned down above her, slitting her throat in one final act of defiance.

Returning to the camera, which he had placed on their dining room table, he moved toward Jessica’s body and captured her final image—her body sprawled on the floor and her stomach covered in blood. Despite the heartbreaking scene, Jessica’s face looked serene, like that of an angel.

Then the video ended and the screen went black.

“What did you think?” Nick asked almost casually as he studied Harleen’s face.

The tears that had welled up in Harleen's eyes were now barreling down her cheeks. She began to cough as she thought of the terrible event she had just witnessed, one for which Nick was never charged. Harleen looked at the man sitting before her—his black hair long and greasy, his eyes blue and hideous, his smirk proud and abhorrent—and leaned forward, throwing up onto the floor between them.

*****


	24. Chapter 24

Frost had fallen asleep at his desk in his basement office when his phone buzzed.

“Chubs, what’s up?” Frost asked as he tried to hide the yawn escaping his throat.

“Hey, uh... I... we got somethin’ here that I think you should see...” Chubs said sheepishly.

“What do you mean? What is it?” Frost said, his tired eyes stretching open.

“It’s an envelope with a USB drive inside,” he told him.

“Okay, so probably something from Nick...” Frost began as he paused to contemplate what it could contain.

Chubs cleared his throat nervously. “Uh, boss, look... The envelope it was in... It said ‘Jackie’ on it... There was no address, no... no nothin’,” his voice almost stuttered as his words came out. “We did a search around the area, but saw nothin’... Someone musta came by and... and dropped it.”

“God damn it...” Frost cursed, his voice low. “You’re telling me that Nick was right outside—close enough to drop off an envelope?”

“I... I guess so,” Chubs replied, concerned not for the wrath of Frost but for the hellfire that Joker would surely rain down upon all of them when discovering that Nick had been so close.

“Okay, take a deep breath,” Frost said, trying to calm his associate down as much he was convincing himself to remain collected. “I’m checking the feed right now... I thought we had a man watching at all times?”

“We did,” Chubs told him. “We do... Teddy was watching the street, but he musta needed a piss break.”

“Okay, how long ago was that?” Frost asked, pulling up the video feed.

“I’d say... about an hour ago.”

“All right, let me check here...” Frost continued rewinding through the video feed. “Here, here’s something. It’s... the mailman? Around two o’clock, there’s a guy dressed in a light blue shirt and dark pants carrying a messenger bag... it looks like a fucking mailman—son of a bitch!” Frost exclaimed while slamming his fist onto his desk. “There he is, he just throws the envelope toward the door and keeps walking. What a _fuck!_ ”

Chubs was silent on his end for a moment. “Should I hold onto this until you get here? I don’t think Mr. J has been out of his office since a little after noon. As far as I know, he’s still back there.”

“Yeah, he probably is... Look, hold onto the envelope and I’ll be right there. Give me forty minutes, okay? If J comes out, just try to keep him contained,” Frost requested of the man.

“You got it, boss.”

*****

Frost arrived at the club within his promised forty minutes and grabbed the envelope from Chubs before knocking on Joker’s door.

“J? You still in here?” Frost called into the room as he slowly opened the door.

“Yeah, Frost, come in,” Joker said, his tone sounding more moderate now.

Frost entered the office and stood in front of Joker’s desk looking at him.

“What?” Joker asked, becoming slightly annoyed. “I’m fine. I haven’t had a drink in... what...” he said as he picked up his phone and looked at the time, “...ten hours.”

“Good,” Frost said solemnly as he looked at his friend. “Listen, you need to know that everyone is pushed to their limits here. I have guys out checking leads constantly... no one’s getting any sleep...”

“What’s your point, Jonny?” Joker asked, the irritation growing in his voice.

“I watched the video feed, J. A man dressed as a mailman dropped this package off about two hours ago... It’s addressed to 'Jackie' and there is no street address on it,” Frost explained as he handed the envelope to Joker. “It was Nick. He was here and he dropped it off on our doorstep.”

Joker growled as he opened the envelope and pulled out a USB drive, his silver teeth shining in the low light of the room. He angrily pulled his laptop closer to him and fumbled with the USB drive and pushed it into his computer without a thought for security. Frost was thankful that he had installed the best anti-virus software to prevent mishaps during occasions like this.

He opened the folder for the drive to show only one file.

“It’s a video file,” Joker stated as Frost walked around to Joker’s side of the desk.

He remembered how Nick had a camera in his hands practically all the time and his first disheartening thought was that the video would show him killing Harleen. He would realize how close his guess was as he opened the file.

“ _Nicky_ ,” a voice from the past said on the black screen. “What are you doing here? Jack told me that you had some big investor meeting or something.”

“Oh, that, yeah, it ended early,” the voice belonging to Nick responded. “I just wanted to stop by to, um, see how you were doing, you know, being seven months pregnant and all. When is he due?”

“We’re due May fifth... Kinda scary...”

Joker knew immediately that it was Jessica—her sweet voice having rattled around in his brain for over thirteen years. He listened as they had a friendly conversation about naming their child.

“...Jack really likes the name Bruce...”

“...Sounds like a real strong name...”

“...Sorry, we don’t have any liquor...”

And then the image of Jessica appeared, her slender body could put fashion models to shame. Her long dark hair and tan skin made her seem exotic and elegant.

“...Is that a new camera?...”

“...This could have been ours together...”

“...What are you talking about?...”

And then the men watched, their eyes glued to the screen of the laptop, as Nick began to beat the woman to the floor.

“J,” Frost said, “we don’t need to see this...”

“I need to see this!” Joker screamed in a shrill voice as he pushed his chair back from his desk and stood up. He leaned over with both fists resting on the surface as he continued to watch, unable to pull his blazing blue eyes from the image.

“...The baby! You’re gonna hurt the baby!...”

“...This should be _my_ baby!...”

“...Billy... Billy Edwards? Oh, my god, _Billy Edwards_?!...”

“...Jack! Jack! Help me! Jack!...”

The blood drained from Joker’s already pale face as he watched Nick stab his erstwhile fiancée in her beautifully round pregnant belly over and over as she called out for him. Her blood was everywhere. Her body was limp. Her life was over in a seeming instant.

Frost’s jaw fell open as he watched the man remove her jeans, fully knowing what was coming next. “Jesus Christ, J, we don’t need to see this...”

Joker had no response. His face had gone from drained of blood to full of anger—now pink in tone despite his abnormal lack of color. His fists tightened and every vein in his neck and forehead bulged.

“...I’m going to take what you should have given me all those years ago...”

“ _FUCK_!” Joker screamed as he watched his former business partner, his one-time best friend, rape his fiancée.

“ _FUCK_!” He pounded his fists on the desk as he looked at Jessica, once alive and happy, now lying dead on the floor of their apartment, just like the neighbor had found her.

The camera moved toward her body, Joker now seeing the damage done to the helpless woman. Her face was peaceful and looked exactly the way he remembered seeing her in the morgue when he cried over her body.

The video ended as Joker continued to slam his fists on the sturdy old desk. He closed the lid of the laptop with a slam and threw it against the wall, hitting a lamp and sending it toppling to the floor. He retrieved the gun from his holster and pulled the trigger several times in a row before realizing that no bullets had been fired.

“ _Where are my fucking bullets_?!?” Joker screamed at Frost. “ _Where are my fucking bullets_?!?”

Frost knew better than to answer Joker in a moment like this. There was simply no reasoning with him. Frost, in a state of shock himself, walked backward into a couch and sat down, his mouth still slightly open and his eyes looking through the floor. He knew Joker could be a bit crazy in his day, but for a man to do something like _that_ to a woman... Frost now realized the true extent of Nick’s abilities. He was complete scum and Frost would do anything in his power to help Joker bring him down.

Joker stood beside his desk and seethed as his questions to Frost went unanswered. He grabbed his bottles of liquor and threw them against the wall and floors, letting off a bit of unbridled energy with each crash. He then ripped his chair away from his desk and stood behind it, as if he wanted to flip it over. But he paused. His jaw clenched and his lips turned into a deep frown. He found the chair, its leather wet with droplets from his thunderstorm of alcohol, and he sat down.

His faced turned from the frown to one of stone-cold realization. He knew what had happened to Jessica, but the video made it more real. His blue eyes were bloodshot and stung with the liquid that filled them but never fell down his cheeks. He was too strong to shed a tear. The words of his long-forgotten Aunt Rose echoed in his brain: “You have to be strong for me, Jackie. You have to be strong...” And he _was_ strong.

Frost, however, was more emotive. He thought about his wife and the pain he went through when he lost her. It was absolute hell. He had lost his whole world when she died. His lips were pressed hard together and his beard was slightly unkempt as a tear from his eye rolled down his cheeks and into the forest of hair near his mouth. He couldn’t imagine the pain that his friend Joker—Jack—went through after learning about such a violent and fatal assault on his soon-to-be wife. She didn’t deserve it. Frost’s wife didn’t deserve it. Was it their lot in life to be surrounded by pain and misery?

If Joker had seen Frost’s tears, then he made no mention of it. “Harleen is out there Jonny,” he said gravely, “I have to find her before something like this happens.”

Joker thought about the two women that he desperately loved. They were both kind and gracious. They both had a mind to do what was right and to help others—Jessica having worked in law and Harleen having worked in medicine. Harleen had saved him from himself when he was at the very bottom of his pit of despair. She reached a hand into the well and he grabbed on as she pulled him out into the light, freeing his heart and showing him that he _could_ be loved again—that he was worthy of it.

Frost stood up and left the room, heading for the restroom where he washed his face with cold water and looked at himself in the mirror. He knew they had to do whatever they could to find Harleen.

*****

Joker stood in his office for several minutes just staring at his laptop in its final repose upon the dark tile floor. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled note.

 _To Daddy With Love, Harleen_ , the note in his hand whispered to him in her voice. The positive pregnancy test could have been faked, he realized, but he also knew that there was a small chance that it could be real. Nick was good at psychological warfare like that. But Joker was better. He had defeated him once before and he could most certainly do it again.

He remembered the moment that his fingers had lost their grip on the metal catwalk. His face had been punched to the point that several of his teeth had broken—he could feel the sharp edges as his tongue pushed against their loosened shapes. It was a moment of fearless resignation as he felt his body freefall into the pool of liquid below, the ooze enveloping him in one big gulp. It was warm and slightly bubbling, clearly still in an early process before being turned into powder and compressed into pill form. He hit the surface of the bubbling vat with a big splash and his weight carried him quickly to the bottom.

His mind wanted to let go. He had just learned that his best friend and business partner had raped and murdered his soon-to-be wife. He had been robbed of his chance to be a husband and a father. He didn’t know the purpose of continuing without her and their child. But as he hovered near the bottom of the container, his body slowly started to rise due to the relatively high density of the chemical mixture. Despite his attempts to remain at the bottom forever, he was slowly propelled to the surface where he took a large, silent breath and moved his back toward the section closest to Nick’s vantage point and out of his view.

Jack cleaned the liquid from his face as he floated in the water listening for his friend to call out, but he never heard a peep. He knew that Nick would be arrogant enough to think that he killed Jack and never give a second look. He was probably sitting in his office chasing a glass of scotch with bottle of beer thinking about his next move. Jack waited more than five minutes before swimming to a nearby ladder and climbing out of the huge metal container.

His body was drenched in the chemical, which dripped to the ground as he carefully climbed down the ladder, his feet at one point slipping beneath him leaving him dangling for a second time that night. The look on Nick’s face flashed through his mind—his eyes were a threatening blue and his mouth was curled into a perverted smile. Nick had even gone through the trouble of having a small birthday party for Jack—his twenty-eighth—only to confess his most grave of sins and allow him to fall into the basin of liquid pharmaceuticals designed for those with psychoses.

Jack stood in a puddle of pale ooze as he dismounted from the metal ladder and looked around the floor of the ever too familiar pharmaceutical plant. There were stations with chemicals and sinks, there were small, sealed rooms where he and Nick had developed their chemicals, and there was Nick’s secondary office full of cages and terrariums for... animals?

In the year or so since Jessica’s death, Jack had found himself becoming more and more estranged from the business. Maybe it just wasn’t in the cards for him to be part of that life anymore, he had thought. It also meant that he wasn’t completely aware of what Nick was up to, but clearly he had been doing work on animals—something that Jack had been against from the start. Though he had never owned a family pet, he always felt that he had more of a connection to animals than people. People were assholes and were disappointing—a hard lesson he had learned on this very night.

Jack headed for a shower station that was near an exit, his wet footprints marking his path. He pulled the cord and stood under the water as it cascaded over his fully-clothed body. He was wearing a dark blue pin striped suit with a matching tie that Jessica had helped him pick out. He hated trying on clothes, but Jessica always tried to make it fun. She would have her shirt unbuttoned for him in preparation when he stepped out of a fitting room or she would make the most ridiculous faces that would send him into hysterics. Jack wasn’t sure how he could ever smile again thinking about those times. They were gone and lost forever. He stood in the lukewarm water as he quickly washed away the chemicals and he made the decision to never let anyone into his heart again. The pain was too great. He had lost his entire family, his fiancée, their child, and now his business partner—his best friend.

“Never again,” he said out loud to himself as he released the cord to the shower. He stepped out the nearest exit and never looked back.

*****

Joker carefully folded up the paper and placed it back into his pocket when he heard a soft knock on the door.

“What?” he practically growled to the unknown individual on the other side.

“Boss,” Junior said as he poked his head into the room, “Fritz found a few things—a few boxes that you might need to look at. Do you want him to bring them here?”

“Yes,” Joker replied, sounding angry.

He wasn’t angry with his men. In fact, he appreciated everything they were doing for him—driving all over at the drop of a hat, doing sweeps of suspected buildings, purchasing properties simply to use as a lookout post... His men were loyal and they rightfully should be considering that he was paying them millions and turning over portions of his empire to them as he divested himself from the activities.

“Okay, boss, he should be here within the hour,” Junior responded before closing the door quietly. It was a very rough two weeks and his men were smart enough to realize that Joker needed his space.

Joker returned to his chair and opened up a desk drawer. His eyes narrowed as he reached in to pull out a beautiful pearl-handled gun and appraised it with his icy blue glare. He now understood why he had had such an affinity for the weapon—it was the same style that he had used when he killed his Uncle William.

He looked at his adult hand holding the gun and imagined how small his hand must have been when he pulled the trigger all of those years ago. He brought his left hand up to gently touch the shiny metal when he made yet another connection. The tattoo of the sinister smile on his hand gleamed back at him as he hazily remembered that fatal card game in which his uncle shot a man and then used his blood to draw on his hand. As much as he hated the man—enough to kill him—Joker couldn’t help but draw the parallels between them both.

He sat back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling as he waited for Fritz to arrive with the boxes. He just needed time to _think._ But every moment he spent thinking was a moment that Harleen was tied up or being abused or... worse.

“I just need more _time!_ ” he yelled between gritted teeth as he slammed a fist on his desk, the gun on its surface jumping in response.

Joker again thought back to the time of his rebirth and he closed his eyes while deep in thought.

*****


	25. Chapter 25

It was a difficult transition for the man who was once known as Jack Napier. He knew that he couldn’t use his real name anymore as he would be declared dead, so he decided that he would simply go by “J”—no last name, just “J.”

He had stumbled out of the side door of the pharmaceutical plant and into the springtime air of Gotham City when he realized that every aspect of his former life was now gone. He couldn’t return to the swanky apartment he had once shared with Jessica. He couldn’t drive his beloved BMW or ride his motorcycle. He was literally reborn in the chemical ooze with the clothes on his back.

But Jack was smart—not only book smart but street smart as well, and it was a good combination to have for someone who was newly homeless. He spent weeks wandering around the city in his dark blue suit, which quickly became dirty. Then, to his great surprise, his hair began to fall out—first in small amounts and then in larger clumps. Even though it was nearing summertime, he also felt that his skin was becoming paler, though he couldn’t be certain as he almost never looked in a mirror.

He remained a lone wolf, opting not to speak with anyone, as he floated silently through the underworld of Gotham City. Just as he was when he was a child, Jack was incredibly observant. He watched and waited. He saw just how invisible he could be to people who didn’t want to acknowledge his existence. To others, he looked bizarre—a quasi man-monster with patchy hair, pale skin, and broken teeth. If only they had known he was once Jack Napier, PhD, co-owner of ACE Pharmaceuticals, one of the top rising pharmaceutical companies on the east coast poised to make billions.

He survived by remaining invisible. In fact, he relished in it. He ate whenever he could by dumpster diving and outright stealing—and he loved it. Eventually, he had started to lose weight to the point that his clothing was hanging off of his body, but, in spite of his obstacles, he felt it was the most freedom he had ever felt in his life.

He would spend the warm nights in Central Park hiding amongst the trees and exposed bedrock just watching the stars and pushing thoughts of his old life out of his head. The best way to get ahead in this life, he had thought to himself, was to step on the backs of others—to _use_ them in the way that he had been used. His brain started to filter out all of the forgiving thoughts that old Jack used to have until there was no semblance of that man left within him. He was gone. He was merely a memory. Jack believed he died in the basin of chemicals—their power having harnessed not only his physical form but also his brain, morphing him into a new, hideous creature.

It wasn’t until one fateful day that summer when a chain of events was set into effect, determining the course of his future like the flick of one domino toppling onto a series of others.

He had become quite a good pickpocket, stealing purses, backpacks, laptops, and anything else he could get his hands on. He soon created a small network of people he would sell his items to. Jack was always mysterious and never showed his face—always wearing a red-hooded sweatshirt.

On this hot summer day, a few tourists had become distracted by a street performer as Jack eyed up a purse that one woman had placed on the ground. Jack quickly walked by and deftly grabbed the purse from its position when he heard a child scream.

The next thing he remembered was waking up in a hospital.

“What’s your name, dear?” the heavyset woman asked him as he laid in the hospital bed several minutes after his eyes had fluttered awake.

“Wh-What happened?” he responded to her question with his own.

“You were hit by a taxi outside of the library... do you remember that?” she asked.

“No, I don’t...” he answered, pulling a hand up to the back of his mostly bald head and wincing in pain when he felt a large bandage.

“Careful with that, hon,” the nurse instructed as she walked around his bed to inspect the fluids in his IV bag. “You don’t have any broken bones, but you do have a pretty nasty bump back there. You have a concussion, so you’re going to feel woozy.”

She smiled sweetly at the strange-looking man lying in the bed—just as she had always and unconditionally done with the thousands of other patients she had ever seen before him. It didn’t matter if he were a mass murderer or child abuser to her, she would treat every single one of her patients with respect.

“Now, you came in with literally nothing... Do you have a name we can call you?”

Jack laid in the bed—the first sort of real bed he had slept in in _months_ —and he pondered what he should tell the woman. “J...” he responded. “All I know is that my name is J.”

“Okay, Jay,” she said as she wrote his name down in the chart not realizing that he simply meant the letter _J_. “Where do you live, sweetie? You look a little worse for wear.”

“I... don’t live anywhere,” he said somewhat tersely.

“I kind of figured,” she replied. “And because you don’t have insurance, I can only keep you for 12 hours since you are not in bad enough shape to be admitted.” The disappointment and concern could be heard in her words. She could see that the man was in bad condition—from the accident or not—and he could benefit from the IV, a few hot meals, and most _definitely_ a shower. “However, I’m going to have one of our social workers talk to you. They can connect you to our Homeless Assistance Program... it’s for folks like you who need some help. It’s temporary, of course, but it’s something.”

“I’m not interested,” Jack told her as she pressed a button on the equipment near his bed and pushed open the curtain to leave.

“I’ll send someone right away,” she replied, completely ignoring what he had told her. She had a good heart and couldn’t bear the thought of sending someone back out onto the street.

Within two hours, Jack awoke to find a group of people at the foot of his bed talking. His nurse was there and had touched his leg in an attempt to wake him.

“Jay, this man is from the Homeless Assistance Program,” she said, using her hand to point to a young man with blond hair and a reddish beard. “His name is Dr. Morrison and he would like to talk to you about the program.”

“Hi Jay,” Morrison began to say, “I want to—”

At that moment, Jack interrupted them with an outburst as he yelled at the top of his lungs: “I’m not going anywhere!” He sat up in his bed and pulled the oximeter from his hand and ripped the IV from his arm. The group of nurses rushed to contain Jack as he violently thrashed about in his bed in an attempt to break free.

“Give me one milligram of Haldol!” the nurse called out to her assistant as she held his body down with the assistance of others, including security staff that had been called. The medication took effect almost immediately and his tall but thin body gave up the battle as he sunk into his pillow.

*****

“Hello, Jay,” a new voice with a British lilt called out to him from somewhere in the room. “I’m Doctor Crane and I’m going to take care of you, okay?” He grabbed Jack’s exposed ankle and began to shake it a little too hard.

Jack groaned as he tried to turn in his new bed, his eyes opening and adjusting to the room. No longer was he hooked up to equipment but he was now strapped into his bed.

“I’m sorry for the new... fixtures,” the man with the accent said almost unapologetically, as if he enjoyed seeing his new patient tied up. “But I am told that you are quite the feisty one.”

He pulled his reading glasses from his head and looked into his notes. He was in his mid-forties with nearly jet-black hair tinged with a bit of gray at his temples. His high cheekbones and supple lips belied his age, but Jack could see the display of wrinkles around his dark blue eyes when he gave a fake smile.

“Let me go,” Jack demanded, his voice gravelly and hoarse.

“What are you afraid of, Jay?” Crane asked sweetly.

Jack didn’t even want to grace his ridiculous question with a response but decided to do so anyway. “I’m not _afraid_ of anything, asshole. I just want out. If I’m not under arrest, then let me go.”

“Oh, Jay, now come on. Pursuant to section nine of the New York State Mental Health Law, I am permitted to hold you for seventy-two hours, can you believe that?” he asked almost gleefully. “Oh, and then if we observe you and Dr. Morrison agrees, we can make a determination to keep you for up to sixty days!”

Jack laid back in his bed and listened to the man’s words. He would have to watch and listen until he found the right moment to strike.

*****

Hours after his introduction to Dr. Crane, Jack laid shackled to his bed and looked around the room.

“Hey!” he called out. “Hey! What do I gotta do to take a piss around here?”

A young man ran into the room and avoided eye contact with Jack as he held out an oddly-shaped bottle.

“What?” Jack asked. “You want me to piss in this thing? I can’t even use my hands... I’m strapped in, dumbass!”

The man in his early twenties briefly looked at Jack and then quickly looked away. There was something frightening about his visage that shook him to the bone—perhaps it was his patchy bald head or his pale skin. Or perhaps it was has mouth full of broken teeth or his sunken eyes and sharp cheekbones. Whatever it was, he perceived danger and he wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

“What’s your name?” Jack asked, sensing the power he had over the younger man.

“Um... It’s... uh... my name’s Whitney but everyone calls me Ziggy,” he said, embarrassed by revealing his name.

“Whitney? Your name is Whitney?” Jack asked as he nearly howled with laughter. “What are you—a girl?”

Ziggy stood at the side of his bed and bit his lip, his olive skin taking on a sheen of sweat.

“Okay, Ziggy it is, then,” Jack said somewhat in an attempt to allay the man’s anxiety but more in an effort to gain an ally on the staff. “Look, I really gotta piss and I’m strapped in. You’re not really gonna hold my dick for me while I go are you? You gonna wipe my ass too?”

“Uh...” Ziggy started as he looked at the straps. Most of the people they brought into the program were not violent and didn’t need the restraints. “I’ll ask Dr. Crane.”

A few minutes later, Ziggy returned with a pair of handcuffs. “I... uh... I’m supposed to put the cuffs on you,” he explained as he looped one cuff around Jack’s left wrist and undid the bed strap on his forearm. Then he undid the bed strap on his right arm and put his right wrist into the open cuff, leaving Jack’s wrists bound by the handcuffs in his lap.

“This is great and all,” Jack remarked sarcastically, “but what about using a real toilet? I kind of need to use my hands for that.”

“Um... I think we will walk you to the bathroom and cuff you to a bar on the wall,” Ziggy told him.

Jack studied the man for a moment. His hair was dark and curly and his eyes were brown and nervous—always looking at Jack’s face and then away. “You’re pretty new here, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Uh... yeah... um... I just started at the beginning of this week,” Ziggy said.

“Do you have to start every sentence with an ‘um’ or an ‘uh’?” Jack asked the tense man.

“Um... er... I mean,” he responded with a nervous stutter, “I guess I didn’t realize that I did that.”

“Well, maybe it’s something you should work on,” Jack responded as he looked into his face.

“Yeah, yes, you’re right... It’s a bad habit,” he said, agreeing with Jack’s observation.

“Good, now can I have some privacy?” Jack asked. “I really gotta take a leak.”

As Ziggy left the room, he could hear the strange man chuckle to himself. Maybe this new arrival wasn’t so bad after all.

*****

Jack was held in his new hospital for the next several weeks, not knowing where he truly was. Was he in some facility in the middle of nowhere? Was he in prison? Other than Ziggy, the staff really didn’t seem too interested in determining who he was other than the incorrect name of “Jay.” In fact, he seemed to be a guinea pig for Dr. Crane more than anything.

Dr. Crane, Jack quickly discerned, was an arrogant and ruthless man. A trained psychiatrist, Dr. Crane seemed to focus mostly on Jack’s feelings of fear and regret—using his solitude as a dagger to poke through Jack’s toughened outer demeanor. The man was completely insincere and clearly had no interest in actually helping his patients; he seemed to be more interested in how a stimulus could create a desired effect with someone’s behavior.

He was horrible to his staff members, particularly Ziggy, who became the brunt of his jokes. “Ziggy doesn’t know his arse from a hole in the ground,” he had said on one occasion. And on others, he simply resorted to outright name-calling: moron, idiot, imbecile... It was enough for Jack to want to stab the man’s eyes out on Ziggy’s behalf.

But Dr. Crane was a popular figure among the females on the staff, which most of the staff was comprised of anyway. Their judgment of the handsome psychiatrist seemed to be completely clouded as they all were enamored with his good looks and his confident—though often supercilious—attitude. He would lavish upon them praise for their curvaceous figures and lovely eyes, but never for their strong work ethic or a job well done.

Jack quickly discovered the doctor’s angle. He was interested in certain outcomes only. Jack could hear the excited pitch in his voice when a question was answered in the right way. To Jack, it was a game; to Dr. Crane, it was confirmation of his biased research.

“Tell me why your parents abused you as a child,” Dr. Crane said assumptively during one session.

Jack, somewhat taken aback, decided to play along. He really didn’t remember much of his family—just flashes of images—but he was sure that they had a happy home when he was young.

“Oh, my father was a real asshole. He drove my mother to drink—she became a real alcoholic. He used to put his cigarettes out on my arms,” Jack held out his bare arms as if to show the doctor the scars that didn’t exist. “They, uh, both died of a heroin overdose...” Jack’s voice trailed off and he looked at his hands. “I was put in the foster system when I was real little... I don’t know what happened to them...”

“Very interesting,” Crane responded, pushing his glasses up his nose as he looked at his chart and jotted down a few notes.

Then there were other days where Dr. Crane would let the conversation flow with a general, open-ended question.

“Tell me what your greatest fear is, Jay,” Dr. Crane asked him during one session.

“My greatest fear? Right now?” Jack asked. “I would say that it is the idea of never getting out of this hellhole.” It was an honest answer.

“I see...” he responded as he wrote something down in his notes. “You fear a loss of freedom. Tell me about the things that you have lost, Jay.”

“My parents... my childhood...” Jack responded to Crane whose mouth was turned downward and his head nodding in approval.

“That’s very interesting,” Crane replied. “You seem to have a deep connection to the loss of your parents, but you admitted that they were both horribly abusive to you.”

Jack looked at the man and continued to play his game. “Well, I supposed you can’t always choose your family...” Somewhere in the pit of Jack’s soul hidden behind a closed door, he knew there was truth to that statement—he just didn’t have the key to unlock it and find the answer.

“You... you are very interesting, Jay... I just might request to keep you around _beyond_ the sixty days...” Crane said, searching Jack’s face for some sort of response. “And there it is... the fear... You fear being trapped here, don’t you?”

Jack’s face was stone silent as he watched the doctor nearly smile as he sat in his chair at the foot of the bed. There was no way in hell that he would stay any longer than he needed to. At least here he had shelter and food. They had even fixed his teeth for him—if you could call it a “fix.” He had been told that they would be remiss as a hospital to not attend to his medical needs—his broken and abscessed teeth being one of them, which they covered and rebuilt with silver veneers.

They were confounded when they saw how pale his skin was and how much body hair he had lost. Meanwhile, his once patchy bald head was starting to form a stubble of _green_ hair, which mystified the medical staff even more. Despite the brain-numbing medications, he was feeling stronger and stronger with each passing day and he was ready to make his move soon. He would not stay one more day if he had the opportunity.

“You’re very quiet, Jay... I hope I didn’t cause you any disappointment at that news. Would you truly want to live on the street again?” he asked, trying to pry for a response.

Jack continued to be silent as he planned his escape. He would need to rely on Ziggy for help. No one would even imagine Ziggy could possibly be an accomplice to his escape anyway on account that they felt he was so incompetent.

“No answer, Jay?” Crane interrogated the man strapped to his inclined bed frame. Jack’s eyes were now closed, which prompted the exposure of Crane’s once hidden mercurial nature. “Is this some big joke to you?!” he screamed at Jack. “Just you wait, no one gets to play the joker with me and not pay for it, you hear?”

Jack breathed in through his nose and softly exhaled through his mouth.

“You know what? I think I’ll give you a new medicine—one of my own design... You’ll have something to talk about _then_ ,” Crane threatened as he stood up and left the small, gray-walled room with its tiny window.

Minutes later, several nurses wearing tight uniforms filtered into the room and around Jack’s bed.

“Time for your medication, Jay!” one of them giggled as another placed her hands on his thigh, which he quickly pulled away.

“Oh, this one doesn’t wanna play!” the voice said as he felt a thick rubber band being placed around his arm and a needle jab the inside of his elbow.

One of the women lowered the head of his bed so he was no longer sitting up. Another hand reached out and grabbed the soft bulge in his crotch as he yelled.

“Get your hands off! Get out!” he screamed to the women surrounding his bed as they began to grab for more body parts. He may have enjoyed it otherwise, but not on this night.

“Okay, ladies, Mr. Jay doesn’t want to play,” the woman with the syringe said. “Let him enjoy his new medication alone instead...” With that, the nurses left the room as taking their laughter with them.

Jack laid back in the bed and tried to keep his body from tensing up from anxiety as he pulled on his straps. It was the first time in almost a year and a half that a woman had touched him anywhere on his body and he became aroused at the exchange.

However, his heart immediately sunk as he thought about Jessica. The last image he had ever seen of her was her beautiful face in the morgue as the sheet was pulled down. She was serene and peaceful. Her skin was so pale and still. Her once pink lips were a light purple. She was so perfect and lovely... No one could possibly ever replace her. He would never love again.

Jack closed his eyes and fell asleep as his brain was swimming in thoughts of Jessica and how she cried out for him while being stabbed. He wasn’t there. He couldn’t save her. His mind flashed to a million scenes of their life together. Meeting her outside of the union in grad school, holding her hand as they walked, kissing her for the first time, making love to her in their bed, proposing to her, learning that she was pregnant, driving her to doctor appointments, repainting their second bedroom a light blue color... Jack let out a heavy sigh and his face crumpled in pain as tears fell from his eyes.

*****


	26. Chapter 26

Jack awoke to a light tapping on the small window to his room. The sky was no longer pink as it had been just before he fell asleep; it was now pitch black and the only light to his room entered through the opening below the door. He used his strapped wrists as leverage to lift himself into a seated position as he got his bearings.

The light on the floor seemed to dance like a thousand shadowed centipedes preparing to crawl into his bed and consume him. The tapping on the window continued to grow louder and louder until the glass cracked and burst as a thousand shards flew into his room with a loud whoosh. He heard a woman cry in the distance alternating with the sound of a baby. The door to the room opened slowly, the soft white light casting a glow across the floor, dispersing the crawling centipedes to the walls and ceiling.

He could hear footsteps. They were heavy. Thump... thump... thump...

“Jackie...” he heard a man’s voice speak to him in a sing-song way. “Jaaaaackieeeee...”

The footsteps drew nearer and Jack’s heart began to race. He didn’t know why he was so frightened but his mouth was dry and he couldn’t speak a word, like his voicebox had been removed. The resounding footsteps stopped just outside of his door where a man’s body eclipsed the light, casting a demonic shadow on the floor.

“Jackie...” the deranged voice said again as it entered the small hallway into his room. “Jackie... I’m coming to get you, boy.”

A figure appeared in full view—it was a man in a suit and hat. He was covered in blood from the neck down and he had a shining gun in his hand. The baby’s wails in the distance grew louder as the man removed his hat and smiled. It was an impossibly giant smile on a face that was pointed like a goblin. His hair was short and black and stuck straight out as if it had been electrified.

“Jackie, my boy... Why did you hurt me...?” the man asked through his menacing smile. The room started to stretch and change shape and Jack felt himself move nearer to and then farther from the man as he began to hurtle backward into nothingness.

“Jackie... you hurt me...” the voice called out. “Jackie... Jackie... Jackie...”

*****

Suddenly, Jack was pulled from the never-ending darkness where he had been freefalling into an infinite pit of nothing.

“Jay... Jay... Jay...” Ziggy’s voice said to Jack as he tried to shake the man awake.

Jack’s eyes slowly opened as he realized that he was safely strapped to his hospital bed. It was morning—time for breakfast—and the small window to the outside world of beautiful bright blue sky was not broken. There were no bugs in the room and the frightening man had disappeared.

“Jay,” Ziggy said again as the man coughed into his pillow and tried to sit up. “Wait, don’t sit up yet. Just... uh... just stay there. I think Crane had the nurses give you one of his designer concoctions.”

“I think so, too,” Jack said as he looked over at Ziggy, his only ally in the hospital. He turned his head and coughed again into his pillow.

“I looked at the notes... They said you were up all night screaming like a madman and laughing. They’re going to use that as the basis to keep you past sixty days,” Ziggy explained.

“I haven’t even been here for thirty days,” Jack countered. “And already they’re looking to keep me even longer... Amazing.”

“I’m learning that... well, it’s just what Crane does. This program is a pipeline to Arkham and he sits on the board there,” he said. “I happened to do a little digging and found that out a few days ago.”

“Ziggy,” Jack said, “they don’t give you enough credit.”

Ziggy beamed at the compliment. “Listen, Jay, just let me know how I can help. No one deserves this.”

Jack smiled a toothy metallic grin at Ziggy. “I appreciate it, Zig,” he said quietly. “Maybe you can get me a scalpel? Something that I can hide by my leg... And I’ll need you to cut my straps, too.”

Ziggy smiled back and squinted his eyes. “I know just what to do... Dr. Crane is supposed to be here this afternoon and I’m sure you’ll be the first one he wants to talk to. I’ll get you set up by then. I promise.”

“Thank you, Zig,” Jack said. “I’m not sure how I’ll ever repay you, but thank you.”

*****

Dr. Crane waltzed into Jack’s little room—almost like a prison cell—and whistled a jaunty tune as he read the notes in his chart. He looked up at Jack and smiled.

“You look good, Jay,” he told him as he examined the man who seemed to be relaxing in bed with a slight smile on his face. “You must have had an interesting night?”

“Oh, very much so, doc,” Jack told him. He couldn’t wait for the right moment to pounce. Ziggy had loosened the two screws that held each strap’s mechanism in place—two screws on each wrist were all it took to give him the freedom he desired.

“Good, very good,” he replied. “I hope you had time to think about my offer. You’re doing well here, but, based on your outburst last night, you’re not doing so well that it would warrant a release. Today is our four-week mark, Jay... You’re supposed to meet certain criteria by thirty days and you’re not, so you’ll at least be staying for the entire sixty days.”

“And then what?” Jack asked defiantly. “You’ll send me to Arkham? You haven’t even diagnosed my symptoms yet.”

“Au contraire, my dear Jay. You have most certainly been diagnosed. Dr. Morrison and I worked on the diagnosis ourselves. Would you like to hear it?” he asked as he pushed his glasses back up his nose.

“No, I don’t want to because there is nothing wrong with me. Come and look in my eyes and tell me something is wrong with me!” Jack yelled at the man who was supposed to be a highly credentialed medical professional.

Crane stood up and placed the chart onto his chair behind him. Pulling out his light pen, he approached Jack with the arrogance of a haughty professor about to school one of his students.

“Your eyes, Jay... they’re tired,” he told him as if it were somehow indicative of a psychosis.

Jack’s heart started to race as the man stood above him. He carefully pulled his arms from the straps with ease and then—acting swiftly—he grabbed the doctor by the throat, jumped from his bed, and pushed him backward against the wall.

“J-Jay... Wh-what... a-are...” Crane tried to say as his mouth gurgled.

Jack’s grip was strong—like he was channeling all of the anger that he had harbored for Nick into his one hand, all of the pain he had felt over the loss of Jessica, and all of the hatred he felt for the doctor who was now under _his_ control. It was like a switch had been flipped in his brain.

Crane’s eyes filled with tears from the sting of the pressure and lack of oxygen to his lungs. He closed his eyes and slowly slid down the wall, landing silently on the floor.

At that moment, Ziggy walked into the room having heard the commotion and made eye contact with Jack as he turned around to the bed to grab the scalpel that Ziggy left for him.

“Doctor...” Jack called out with forbidding grin as he kneeled down in front of the man sitting on the floor with his back to the wall. “Doctor...” he said again, slapping the man in the face with his free hand.

Crane gurgled once more and coughed, opening his eyes to see the pale man with very short green hair crouched in front of him. “Jay...”

“The name’s not _Jay,_ Dr. Crane,” Jack announced, his voice dripping with malevolence. “It’s _Joker._.. And you can add homicidal maniac to your list of diagnoses...”

Upon speaking those words, the newly christened Joker grabbed the man’s face with his left hand and pushed it into the wall as he used his right hand to slice his neck with the scalpel. It was a quick and easy movement as the blade entered his skin and tore it open—blood gushing everywhere as the artery carrying it continued to pump.

Joker stood up and dropped the scalpel onto the floor between the dead man’s legs. It was the first person he had ever killed—that he could consciously recall—and he felt no remorse. He looked at his blood-covered fingers and was compelled to draw the blood into a smile on the back of his hand as if he had seen it before. He held the hand up to his face and began to laugh maniacally, turning to Ziggy as he did so. The smile faded from his lips as he dropped his hand to his side and approached Ziggy who was holding a clear plastic bag of clothing and a white lab jacket.

“Here, Mr. J, these are your clothes. I grabbed a jacket so you could move quickly to the rear exit, which is a few hallways down,” Ziggy said nervously as he handed Joker the bag and turned to look at the door, which was slightly ajar. No one had been alerted by the commotion.

“We’re on a residential floor,” he continued, “and there is only one nurses’ station, which is to the right. When you leave you’re going to turn left,” he told him as he watched the man pull on his old pin-striped slacks followed by his white shirt and matching suit jacket. “At least we washed your clothes for you, I guess.”

Joker grabbed the white jacket and put it on, not having a mirror to look at himself.

“You look... good...” Ziggy said, his tone uncertain. “I mean, your hair is coming in green. At least it’s short, so you shouldn’t draw too much attention.”

“You coming with me?” Joker asked, his voice low.

“Uh... no... Maybe someday we’ll catch up, but it would kill my mom if I were on the run.”

“Okay, then where do I go?” Joker replied.

“Take a left out this door and then you’ll pass two short hallways on your right. Turn right at the third hallway and make a run for it. It’s going to set off a silent alarm, so you have to be fast... Actually, here,” Ziggy said, reaching around his neck for his photo ID on a lanyard. “Take my badge. You can swipe yourself out of the door without setting of the alarm and you can get out of the gate. You’ll need my car, too,” he continued as he reached into his pocket for a set of keys. “It’s a maroon Honda Accord. It’s a piece of crap anyway, but it will do the job. Just look for the big tree at the end of the lot by the river and you’ll see it.” He dropped the keys and badge into his hand and looked up at him. "Good luck..."

Joker looked at the man who was helping him for no good reason, except for the fact that he was the only one who seemed to believe in the mousy little man with a girl’s name.

“Oh, Mr. J, one more thing?” Ziggy asked.

“You name it,” Joker responded.

“Punch me in the face,” Ziggy stated, bracing himself for impact.

“Just make sure you tell them my name,” Joker instructed. He couldn’t bring himself to say thank you but he knew that there was a tacit understanding of appreciation.

“You got it, Mr. Joker,” Ziggy said with a slight smile on his face.

Joker did as he requested—a little too hard perhaps—and the short man fell to the floor holding his jaw, blood from Crane’s neck now covering part of his face. Joker then left the room and quickly walked to freedom without alerting any of the nurses on the floor. He swiped Ziggy's card, pushed open the door, and exited to the warm July sunshine. He was ready to begin his new life as The Joker and absolutely no one was going to stop him.

*****


	27. Chapter 27

Harleen laid on the floor of her room as her mind fixated on the videos Nick had played for her. Though he didn’t have a psychology degree, he was brilliant at pushing people’s buttons. She had seen so many videos of Jack and Jessica that she almost wasn’t sure if she had even had been in a relationship with the man herself.

She felt like her mind was a painful mess of chemicals, having been injected by the madman several times a day for the past thirteen days. She laid on the floor watching the smallest crack beneath the door, through which a minute amount of orange light from the outside hallway could be seen. She was tired of the game and she wasn’t exactly sure what was real anymore.

The one thing she knew was real was Jack and Jessica. She had practically memorized every video, even the final, heart-wrenching one. Jessica was such a point of light in Jack’s life, and Jack had the larger-than-life personality of a movie star who was somehow gracious and humble at the same time. He was a normal person—someone Harleen could have fallen in love with even then. He was clearly kind, caring, and considerate. He was funny—really funny. He made faces for the camera and was carefree, always ready with his big gorgeous white smile.

 _My god,_ Harleen thought to herself, _he was so handsome and perfect, and look what Nick turned him into._

She thought about his transformation, how he thought he had fallen into a basin of chemicals and changed as a result. What would he think he if knew that Nick had been doing genetic experiments on him? What would he think if he found out that _she_ was his next guinea pig? What was going to happen to her? Would she grow green hair, too? Or would she _actually_ grow wings of a bird?

Harleen tried to focus, but the fog of her brain seemed to keep her from thinking about certain things for too long. Her thoughts always strayed to the tragedy of Jessica—her beautiful face emblazoned in her mind. She was so perfect, and Jack deserved a perfect woman. Her mind pictured the final image of Jessica on the floor, her neck sliced and her stomach stabbed.

Her thoughts churned viciously that night as she realized that she could never possibly live up the beautiful soul that Jessica surely had. How could she ever reach the high standard that Jessica had set? Jessica had certainly never helped a convicted criminal escape prison and kill her co-workers. She had certainly never killed anyone. The videos were solidifying Harleen’s self-doubt, just as Nick had hoped. He hoped that it would break her down and she would be compliant for as long as he wanted, and it was working.

*****

“Here’s everything I could find,” Fritz said as he brought in a large tub from his SUV. “Actually, I have one more that I need to grab... It’s all marked Billy, which I am assuming is what they called him when he went by William.”

“This is good work, Fritz,” Joker said to the man’s surprise. “Stick around... tell the men no drinks, okay? I need them on their toes.”

“You got it, boss,” Fritz said as he left the rear office to grab another, smaller box.

Frost returned to the office as Fritz finished dropping off the last box. “I’ll start with this one,” he said as he grabbed the smaller box and sat down on the couch.

In the meantime, Joker was pulling papers out of the plastic tub and throwing them onto his desk. It contained Nick’s—or Billy as he was then called—old report cards from grade school and junior high as well as some old art, a few books, some old records, a journal, and some school documents written with very cursive and almost illegible handwriting titled _Behavioral Reports_.

“I can’t believe all of the shit that his parents saved for him,” Joker said as he continued to move through the pile. Frost sat on the couch quietly looking through equally old and yellowed documents. “This one seems like a bust. Damn it.” Joker frowned as he pulled out useless document upon useless document.

Finally, he reached what seemed like an ancient orange-flapped envelope—the kind with the two circles and a string used to wrap around to hold the flap down. The front said _William Nicholas Edwards_ , and it was filled with a stack of paper. Joker sat down and opened the envelope, his patience being tested with how many times he had to unravel the string from the circles. Pulling them out, he saw a cover page for the State of New York’s Office of Children and Family Services.

“Hm...” Joker mumbled as he looked at the name of the agency. It rang a slight bell for him, as if he were possibly part of that system when his aunt and uncle took him in.

_Order of Adoption._

_To wit, on this the tenth day of the fifth month of the year 1979, in the matter of the adoption of William Nicholas Napier Jr., shall now be known as William Nicholas Edwards. The undersigned adoptive parents Wayne G. Edwards and Marcia E. Hughes-Edwards whose present place of residence is Nyack, NY..._

Joker held the paper in his hands as he started to shake.

_The undersigned biological mother Sandra M. Napier whose present place of residence is Sacramento, CA, and biological father William N. Napier Sr. whose present place of residence is Queens, NY..._

The blood drained from his face as he stared at the decree. He stood up from his seat and sat back down.

 _Nick is my... cousin?_ Joker asked himself, the preposterousness of the question hitting him like a ton of bricks. He had learned from Evans that Nick was adopted, but he never thought he could _possibly_ be a relative of his own. He could now see the resemblance: the dark hair, the deep-set blue eyes, the shape of the lips... the menacing smile and maniacal laugh...

He reached into his drawer and pulled out the envelope containing the old pictures and lock of Harleen’s hair. Flipping through the old photos, he found the one he was looking for: a picture of his father Robert and his Uncle William with two newborns on their knees. Joker flipped the photo over and could very faintly read the inscription. _Robbie with Jack and Willie with Jr._

“Jesus mother fucking Christ,” Joker said aloud. “Frost... You need to see this...”

“Actually, J,” Frost responded in an urgent tone, “I need you to see _this._ ”

Joker walked over to the couch and sat opposite of Frost as he had a few items spread out in front of him. “What is it?” he asked as he looked at the pile of papers.

“It’s... It’s...” Frost said, trying to find the words. He looked up and stared at the green-haired man’s bright blue eyes. “It’s all stuff from your childhood... Look...”

He grabbed the stack of papers and handed it to his friend.

“It’s all newspaper clippings,” Frost continued as he added more to his pile.

It was the second trip down memory lane in just two days. Two days and Joker knew more about his family history than he ever did in his entire forty years.

Joker looked through the stack as he tried to control his upsurge of emotions—not anger this time but more sadness and regret. There was a clipping about a car accident on Long Island in 1985, an obituary for his entire family, and the obituary for his Uncle William from late December that same year. There was a copy of the acknowledgment for the endowment in the name of Robert and Anne Napier for Fairford Academy. There was an announcement for the graduating class of Fairford in 1995 with the name Jack Napier as the valedictorian as well as announcements at Yale for his undergraduate degree and Moraine University for his two graduate degrees. Then there was the obituary for his death on his birthday in 2005. But nothing more. Jack Napier ceased to exist after that date. Someone had clearly been keeping tabs on Jack Napier and his life.

“J, do you know a Rose?” Frost asked innocently as he held up a hand-written letter.

“Yes... I had an aunt named Rose,” Joker responded as he grabbed the letter from his friend.

_April 18, 2005_

_Dear Nicholas,_

_I am so sorry to hear of the passing of your dear friend and business partner, Jack Napier. Enclosed in this envelope is a folder of information that you might find beneficial for a funeral service if you hold one. I’m not sure how much he shared with you, but Jack was a very special child and grew to be an amazing man, just like his father. I knew him for a brief time when I was much younger. If you would like to reach out to me to talk, please call me at 212-555-2368. I have photo albums that I would like to share with you._

_Sincerely,_

_Rose Richards_

Joker sat on the couch astonished at the letter. His Aunt Rose had reached out to Nick—Jack’s last living connection. She likely had no idea that they were cousins and that when her little Jackie killed his Uncle William he was also killing Nick’s biological father. It left Joker’s head spinning.

“What did you want to show me?” Frost asked as he looked at the stack of papers clipped together in his lap.

Joker silently handed him the stack of papers as Frost reviewed it.

“So, you’re... you’re _related_?” Frost asked incredulously.

“Nick and I are cousins,” Joker responded, shaking his head back and forth.

“Jesus Christ...” Frost replied. “This is fucked up. Like, really fucked up.”

“I know... I’m trying to wrap my mind around it... and you don’t even know the half of it,” Joker told him, referring to the fact that he had killed his uncle—Nick’s real father.

“Do you wanna tell me?” Frost asked, his voice soft and kind.

“Not right now... Not right now... I just don’t want to think about it,” Joker said, not knowing how much he would ever reveal to anyone.

Frost shook his head in understanding. He knew better than to push Joker into doing or saying something he wasn’t comfortable with. Frost suddenly tilted his head and furrowed his brow.

“What was your aunt’s name again?” he asked.

“Rose... Rose Richards,” Joker responded, looking at the note in front of him.

“Rose Richards?” Frost asked again, standing up and removing the items from his path. His brain was like a computer as it processed the name _Rose Richards_ over and over. He paced in front of the couch a few times before pausing.

“J, stay here,” he commanded. “Do not move. Just stay here.”

“What is it, Jonny?” he asked, starting to get even more anxious and agitated than he already was.

“I’ll be right back, just stay,” Frost countered as he slipped out the door and practically ran to his front office to grab his computer and printouts.

The minute he was gone felt like ages as Joker paced around the room waiting for Frost to return. Finally the door burst open and Frost rushed in, slamming it behind him.

“Look, look, J. Look,” Frost said in a rush.

“God damn it, Jonny, what am I supposed to look at?” Joker asked, his nerves starting to get the best of him.

“We were looking at areas around us. We knew he had to be local, right?” Frost said in a breathless rush before pausing and pointing at a name on the list. “Rose Richards. She owns a company called Ex Ridere LLC...”

“Ex Ridere... ridere... Jesus Christ, Frost, that’s Latin for smile!” Joker exclaimed as he looked down at the paper.

“Exactly... and the connection was Rose,” Frost responded.

“Where is it?” Joker asked with the enthusiasm of a child at Christmas.

“J... listen... just don’t pull your gun on me...” Frost said as he somewhat nervously looked up from the paper in his hand. “It is literally on the block diagonal from us. We can see it from our corner, which means that _he_ can see us and is probably watching us,” Frost explained.

Joker’s body tensed up and he gritted his teeth together.

“Get the men. I want everyone on this. Get whatever you need. Get suited up. We leave in ten...” Joker stated. “The longer we wait, the longer Harley is with that... with him.”

“He’s close and there are windows on this side of the building,” Frost said. “He could be watching us...”

Joker thought for a few seconds. “Then we take the SUVs and drive around the block from the other side. You and I will head over on foot and get set up. Do you have the M112 here?”

“Of course,” Frost responded with a growing smile. “It’s in the back room with all of the gear.”

“Good, gather the men in the poker room,” Joker said, his tongue slowly licking the ridge of his silver teeth. “After we blow the door to smithereens, I want the first wave to enter... We will simply out-number him.”

“You got it, J.”

“Get the men, I’ll be right there... I need a moment to myself before I come out,” Joker said and Frost nodded his head.

Joker headed to his private restroom and pulled open the mirror above the sink. Inside was a small basket on a shelf full of his on-the-town makeup—for those nights when he really wanted to be in full Joker mode. He quickly sponged on a pale foundation to make his skin even whiter while using a large brush to decorate his eyes with a dark charcoal. He finished his clownish look with a tube of dark red lipstick. _Perfect,_ he thought as he revealed his silver teeth in a wicked smile, _he’ll never know what hit him._

“The guys are ready, J,” Frost said as he poked his head in through the door.

“It’s showtime!” Joker exclaimed as he grabbed his pearl-handled pistol from his desk and tucked it into the back of his pants.

*****

About two dozen men in SWAT gear piled into four large, black SUVs and screeched out of the parking lot of the club one by one, causing Nick to run to the window as he cursed himself for leaving his binoculars on the table. He smiled as the vehicles drove away, certain they were on yet another wild goose chase.

The warehouse he had purchased was quite large—having three levels—yet he had Harleen sequestered to a small portion of the top level. He walked across the metal walkway toward the curtain of black plastic and pushed himself through to his makeshift room that included the long table, carts, and chairs. The plain whitish-yellow utility lighting was a big help to offset the burning orange light of Harleen’s long hallway, which he purchased specifically to torment his captive.

He looked forward to the day that he would break her and take her away from the warehouse. At first, it was all about twisting the knife into his old pal Jack’s heart, but now he actually somewhat liked the woman. She listened to him and made him feel smart. He enjoyed that.

 _It’s probably why Jack likes her so much, too,_ he thought. _Why do we always have to have the same taste in women?_ Nick smiled to himself as he walked across the now solid floor to Harleen’s doorway.

“Oh, Harleeeeeen...” he said, his shortened tongue always having trouble pronouncing the gliding sound of an _L_. He pushed her door in and saw her lying on the floor, her body awash in the dreadful orange light. “It’s time for another treatment and maybe another video, would you like that?”

Harleen didn’t answer, but he knew it had to be a _yes_. He knew that she wouldn’t dare defy him in that way, he thought confidently as he grabbed the wheelchair and pushed it into her room. He picked up her body and placed her in the seat.

“You’re getting a lot lighter, Doctor Quinzel,” he told her. “I think you should start eating better.”

She looked at him quickly and then looked away, disgusted by his psychological torment of telling her that she needed to eat but then never following through on providing her any new food of substance.

After putting her in place next to the table and locking her wheels, he chained her lower half to the back of the chair and cuffed her wrists together in front of her. She had been so docile with her change in attitude lately that he decided he wouldn’t cuff her hands to the armrest or restrain her legs like he usually did.

“You are so gorgeous, Harleen,” he told her as he cupped her sad face with his hand. “Don’t be blue... I’m going to make you into an angel.” He looked down at her breasts in her tank top and could feel himself stiffen at the thought of them both in his face, his nose breathing in their scent and his lips kissing them as they made love. _Not yet!_ Nick cursed himself internally. _I need to kill Jack and then that’ll seal the deal for sure._

“You’re so quiet tonight, Harleen. Why is that?” he asked her as if they were just friends spending time together.

Harleen looked at the man in his tight gray t-shirt and felt repulsed. He was incredibly fit—somewhat larger than Joker—with veins protruding the skin of his massive arms, traveling from his biceps to his hands. On any other man, she might find the muscles quite attractive as they flexed under the bright light, but with Nick she simply wanted to throw up. She knew her body desperately needed the nutrients, however, so she held her stomach at bay. Harleen knew she was not the kind of person who could watch what amounted to a snuff film without being greatly affected by it—especially when the person being raped and murdered was her counterpart from over a decade ago. She felt an affinity for Jessica and a need to protect her memory as Harleen realized that she was one of the few people who knew about it.

“Did your dad know that you killed Jessica?” Harleen asked, somehow finding her voice in her throat.

“My dad... didn’t know shit. He knew that I was talented with making drugs and that’s what he cared about,” Nick responded coldly. "He cared about money and fucking a new whore every weekend."

“But you had assaulted her when you were teens... What did he think about that?” she continued with her line of interrogation.

“My dad, the great psychologist, was totally blind to me and what I was doing in my teens... until he was dragged into that court case. It was my mom who was the most concerned,” he explained. “But, yeah, he knew, and I got a slap on the wrist.”

Harleen sat quietly in her wheelchair as Nick prepared a new syringe full of his magical genetic liquid. She felt no effects but was told that it would probably take months as it did for Jack when transformed into the Joker.

When the pale, emerald-haired monster burst onto the scene the summer of the year of his death with the murder of Dr. Jonathan Crane, Nick thought it could be his old friend but wasn’t certain. The police has closely guarded the details of the crime, only referring to the murderer as "Jay" and glossing over specifics, even to family members. If it were Jack, then he could never tell anyone the information, lest they think he was as insane as the Joker himself. Jack Napier died but was reborn as the Joker as a result of a few vials of genetic therapy and a tumble into a basin full of chemicals? The public wouldn’t have it, he knew, so he kept the secret to himself until his trial. He had blurted out that he was being framed by the one and only Joker, a monster who used to be known as the man Jack Napier. It was, of course, an ineffective defense.

Nick had a sour look on his face as he moved to his table and gathered a few items. He remembered the night nine years ago when Jack—now known as Joker—burst into ACE Pharmaceuticals with a small team of men. He remembered the pain of feeling his back breaking as the Joker kicked him down the stairs. He remembered looking into the familiar eyes of the man with pale skin, green hair, and a silver smile as he gripped his face and cut the end of his tongue off with some kind of snipping tool. He knew then and there that it was most certainly the ghost of Jack Napier returning to haunt him.

Joker and his men ultimately hacked his business accounts and made it look like Nick was committing fraud and misappropriating assets while making payments to the mob. Of all of the terrible things that Nick _had_ done throughout his life, embezzlement and money laundering for the mafia were not crimes he was truly guilty of, but Joker and his team certainly made it seem that way. He lost everything that night and ended up spending almost seven years in prison as a result.

“Fucking Jack... I will kill him with my bare hands...” Nick stated aloud as he examined the tools on his tray.

Harleen closed her eyes upon hearing Nick’s words. He had such hatred for a man that she loved so much. She was so delirious from the cocktail of drugs Nick had been injecting her with that she wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t.

But she knew Joker was real. She remembered every touch. She remembered every stolen glance. She remembered the safety she felt in his arms. She remembered the time they spent together and, though Joker was not a man of many words, she remembered the way he would nuzzle up close to her ear and whisper naughty things to her as she breathed in his delicious scent.

Watching the old videos of when he was Jack only made her long for him even more. She felt that she now understood. She understood his decisions, she understood why he did what he did, she understood why he didn’t deserve to be in a place like Arkham, and she felt vindicated in her actions to set him free... She thought of how he used to look at Jessica—he used those same caring eyes to now look at her. He had the capacity for love. He had a soul. She knew he was no monster. A tear fell from her eye as she thought about the last time he had held her that afternoon in their room. If only she could go back.

 _I just want to go back. I want to go back. Take me back,_ Harleen’s thoughts repeated over and over in her mind.

Suddenly, her eyes fluttered open as the building began to shake. There was an explosion down below.

“Shit!” Nick yelled as he moved into action, grabbing a sheathed knife and pushing it into his waistband before wrapping the strap of a machine gun around his torso. He unlocked the wheels on her chair and pushed her to the edge of the floor toward a wall of black plastic. Grabbing a fistful of plastic, he ripped it from the ceiling allowing it to float over thirty feet in the dust-filled air to the concrete floor below.

“Welcome to my house, Jackie!” Nick yelled maniacally as he smiled.

He was ready.

*****


	28. Chapter 28

When the SUVs drove away in a loud fury, Joker had hoped that they grabbed Nick’s attention. He tightened the straps across his chest and walked out the front door of his club and diagonally across the intersection with Frost, armed with their guns and plastic explosives.

Dressed entirely in black riot gear on their torsos and arms, including a face mask, Joker and Frost reached the three-story red brick building with several closed garage doors. The doors were dirty and had been tagged with veritably enough paint to fill a gallery. _Gotham Recycling_ a faded sign said near the peak of the roofline next to a broken hanging sign that said _Crane Rentals._ They were clearly defunct former businesses.

“This one,” Frost said under his breath behind his mask as he inspected the series of garage doors.

Joker pulled several bricks of the malleable plastic explosive from the black bag Frost had been carrying and placed them around the edge of the door. Frost connected them all to the detonator with a long wire.

“We risk collapsing this side of the building if we’re not careful, J,” Frost informed him in a whisper, the sound traveling out of a surface built into the lower part of the mask to aid communication and breathing.

“Well, then fucking be careful,” Joker said trying to control the volume of his voice. Harleen was inside. She could be dead or alive and he wasn’t taking any chances.

The men crept to the alley on the side of building as Frost prepared to press the remote detonator. With perfect timing, Fritz and Miles, leading the team of twenty men quietly walked down the alleyway to meet up with Frost and Joker.

“Ready?” Frost asked Joker who nodded in return.

“Ready,” he responded as Frost pressed a button on a small black controller with an antenna.

The door exploded inward with a loud bang and a whoosh sound as bricks from the wall fell onto the floor.

“Go, go, go,” Joker yelled to Miles and his team as they ran into the dust-filled building while stepping over piles of rubble. Joker came in at the ready and stood in the doorway as he tried to understand the layout of the building.

“Welcome to my house, Jackie!” a voice yelled from above as Joker watched a large piece of black plastic fall from a platform.

“Where is she, Nick?” Joker said, his voice growling and full of anger as if he were a rabid dog barking at his prey. An orange and yellow light became visible through the dusty air and soon two silhouettes were seen poised at the edge of the platform—one standing and the other one seated in a chair.

Harleen’s heart leapt into her throat at the sound of his voice. “J!” she screamed out as tears rolled down her face. “J!” Her screams were raw and painful. He was so close yet so far away.

“Shh...” Nick admonished the woman. “Oh, you mean your precious Harleen? Hm, Jackie?” Nick responded, taunting him. “She’s busy right now... I mean, as you can see, she’s a little _tied up_!”

“J! He has a gun and a knife!” she screamed, not knowing what to tell him.

“Shut up, _bitch!_ ” Nick yelled as he swiftly put his arm around her neck and pulled her into a headlock. Her cuffed hands immediately moved to grab his arm away from the suffocating hold he had on her windpipe.

“I can kill you right now, Nick,” Joker yelled. “One bullet and it will all be over.”

Nick let out a piercing laugh. “Oh, Jack, you won’t do that. You know why? Because I’m the only thing that is keeping your beautiful doctor from falling forty feet to her certain death... If I let go, then she’s a goner...”

Joker continued to aim his long weapon at Nick as he eyed him through the target—just as the dozen men standing in the room were doing. His mind raced. If he were to shoot Nick, Harleen would fall. He couldn’t risk it.

“Send your men away, Jackie,” Nick demanded. “I want the chance to meet you one-on-one. You _owe_ me that.”

“I don’t fucking owe you _anything,_ ” Joker responded.

Harleen began to cry out for Joker again as she squirmed in the tight grip of Nick’s forearm. The dust finally began to settle and he more clearly saw Nick standing at the precipice of the platform with his arm around Harleen’s neck as she sat chained to her wheelchair.

“Do it, Jack!” Nick yelled. “Do it now or Harleen goes bye-bye!” Harleen continued to gasp and struggle in the silence after his threatening words.

Joker looked around at his men, their guns trained on the man who held Harleen’s life literally in his hands. “Go...” he told Frost. “Get them outside. Now...” Joker turned to look at his men. “Deadshot...” he said quietly.

“Yes, boss,” Floyd said as he paused before withdrawing to the street.

“I want you to stay close. If you see a shot, you take it,” Joker told his newest crew member.

“You got it,” Floyd responded.

“What’s taking so long?” Nick called out in a sing-song voice. “No funny business, Jack! Be a fucking man for once and face me!”

Joker’s blood began to boil and he felt his pulse quicken in his neck. He did face Nick—he faced him twice before. Once when Nick got the best of him and kicked him into a basin of chemicals and a second time when he exacted his revenge with the help of Frost. There was no way in hell that he would face this man—his own apparent flesh and blood—for a third time without finishing the job.

“Good,” Nick said as he watched the men leave in the filtered orange and yellow light. “Now come up the stairs.”

Joker walked up the stairs, his gun still trained on Nick’s head as he made his way up, but never having the opportunity for a clean shot without putting Harleen in harm’s way. He met a wall of black plastic at the end of the stairs and pushed his way through, his feet stepping onto a more solid metal platform.

“Aw, now is that how you treat family?” Nick asked the masked man who gave no response. “Take off your mask, I wanna see your face, Jackie. I wanna see your face when I kill your fiancée.”

Joker pulled the dark visor from his face and threw it to the ground. Harleen gasped not quite believing that he was finally there to save her. All of her dreams were finally coming true.

“Did you know that, Jackie? Did you figure it out? After all this time, we’re related!” Nick said almost as if he were truly excited to have discovered a blood relative with Joker.

“I do know that, _cousin_ ,” Joker responded derisively. “You know what else? I killed your father.”

Nick carefully continued to hold Harleen by the neck as he pulled out his knife and slowly moved it closer to her throat. “Yeah, I know you did... You really put Wayne out of his misery... Good riddance.”

“No, not that one,” Joker replied. “I mean your _real_ dad, William. And I was only eight years old...”

Nick thought for a moment as he began to push the knife deeper into Harleen’s skin, now beginning to draw blood. “Fuck you... Why should I care?”

“Because you take my family away... and I take yours. Ironic that all we have is each other, isn’t it?” Joker asked sarcastically.

“Put the gun down or I’ll keep slicing her neck—just like I did to _Jessica_ ,” Nick said as the blood began to drip down her neck to her shirt.

Joker watched as Harleen sat with a mixture of elation and absolute terror in her eyes. He had to save her no matter what. He thought of the note in his pocket. He had to save their _baby_ no matter what. Looking at Harleen, he nodded and she knew he was going to make his move somehow. He removed the strap of the gun from around his neck and dropped it to the ground.

And that was the moment it all happened.

Joker reached behind himself and ripped the pearl-handled handgun from his waistband. As if in slow motion, he dropped to the ground and took aim at Nick. Joker pulled the trigger, the bullet grazing Nick slightly on the neck below his ear.

Nick removed his arm from around Harleen’s neck and she felt her chair topple to the side as she was stationed at the edge of the platform. It was a long forty feet down to the hard floor below and she was determined not to fall. As the chair fell to the side, she reached for the metal fencing that existed just two feet away. Her weakened and cuffed hands reached out and grabbed the metal bar just as her chair fell off of the platform. She found herself grasping to hang on as the wheelchair was chained to her waist, adding to the weight and keeping her dangling over certain death.

As Nick let go of Harleen, he lunged forward at Joker and threw his knife toward his protected body. The knife had velocity and struck Joker in the top of his thigh near his hip, just below where his chest armor had failed to reach. Joker’s gun rang out again but Nick was too fast, having tackled him by the legs, bringing him down to the ground on his back.

Joker pulled the knife out of his leg and held it to Nick’s neck as the larger man climbed on top of him while holding down the gun in Joker’s right hand and keeping the knife steady in his left. Nick straddled his former friend and laughed as Joker had all of the weapons but no ability to use them.

“Looks like you’re in a pickle, cousin,” Nick said with fire in his eyes. “Poor Harleen... She was such a good fuck... Better than Jessica even. I can see why you like her so much.”

Joker laid on the floor straining against the man on top of him. He showed no emotion as he pushed with all of his might on the knife, which was now turned toward his chest.

“You know,” Nick seethed, “this is slightly reminiscent of Jessica’s final repose... maybe I should stab you, too.” He paused and looked at Joker, their eyes an eerily similar blue. “Did you see the video I sent you? Wasn’t it good?” He smiled creepily as he hovered over his cousin.

Though he had only watched it once, the images and sounds in the video were burned into his mind. _Jack! Jack! Help me! Jack!_ He could hear Jessica’s voice as if she were in the room. Suddenly, Joker was pulled from his deep concentration as he wrestled under Nick’s weight. He _could_ hear a voice. It wasn't Jessica; it was Harleen calling out for him.

And then a loud bang followed by an enormous crash. _What was that? Was she shot?_

Joker’s eyes widened as he gained a newfound strength. Though Nick’s hand was holding his down on the gun, Joker still had access to the trigger. He pulled it.

Nick cried out and let the pressure off of Joker’s left hand holding the knife as the bullet tore through his knee. Joker flipped the man onto his back and plunged the knife into his stomach with both fists on the handle.

“Let’s see how you like it, you fuck!” Joker cackled as he hovered above the man who failed to prevent his cousin from stabbing him in the stomach. Nick’s hands became bloodier and bloodier with each movement of the knife. A million thoughts flashed through Joker’s head like a video on fast-forward. He thought of his life with his family, his life with Aunt Rose, his life with Jessica, his life as Jack—all taken from him in violent ways. And now his life with Harleen. He refused to let something good be taken away again.

“I killed you once before...” Nick said as blood gurgled from his mouth, his hand reaching for the gun Joker had placed on the ground. “I can kill you again.”

Joker leaned in close to Nick’s face and displayed an enormous metallic smile.

“The death of Jack Napier...” he began, “... _set me free_!” And with that, he used the knife to slice a deep gouge into Nick’s neck. The blood began to gush out with abandon as the man laid on the floor now reaching up with his hand in a fruitless effort to contain it.

Joker picked up the two guns and stood up, hovering above his former best friend. He held the pearl-handled gun out and watched the man struggle for breath as he choked on his own blood. He remembered the look on his Uncle William’s face as he realized he had been shot. It was the same look of shock and fear and anger all rolled into one on Nick’s face as well.

“No,” Joker growled, putting the gun back into his waistband. He knew a quick death would be merciful and he was anything but. He wanted Nick to suffer.

“J!” he heard Harleen call out to him in anguish.

Joker turned on his heel and ran to Harleen, who was hanging on for dear life as she dangled from the metal railing at the edge of the platform. It had not even been two minutes since she had fallen with the two men becoming entangled behind the opaque black curtain. Not able to see the men, Floyd took his post and focused on saving Harleen. As she hung from the railing, he saw that the wheelchair was chained to her waist. He took aim, careful to follow her movements as she struggled against the weight of the chair while gravity slowly pulled her fingers away from the railing.

It was a huge risk, but if there were any man for the job, it was Floyd. He kept his aim and fired at the chain holding her in. The chair suddenly fell free from her body and landed on the floor with a great crash as Harleen continued to hold on with her cuffed hands. Within seconds Floyd heard another gunshot coming from behind the black wall. Frost ran in and kicked the wheelchair out of the way as he stood beneath the woman hanging from the platform.

“It’s okay, Harleen,” Frost told her calmly. “You can let go, we’ll catch you."

Harleen looked below to Frost as more of the men walked in following his lead. The drop was too great. There was no way she would let go.

“J!” she had yelled as Joker finished with Nick and ran over to meet her.

“I got her!” Joker yelled down to Frost as he grabbed Harleen by the forearms and slowly dragged her up to the platform.

Harleen stared into Joker’s worried eyes as he pulled her up with all of his strength. As she reached the metal floor, she realized that she was finally in Joker’s arms and began to sob uncontrollably. He pulled her head to his chest and kissed her head over and over.

“Shh... it’s okay,” he said. “I got you...”

His ears pounded with stress and anxiety after waiting two tumultuous and tormented weeks, suffering incredibly in her absence. He wanted to take her away—far away. He wanted to keep her and protect her and never let her see harm again. He was never good at conveying his emotions, but he loved her more than anything in the world. More than his empire, more than money, more than the control he had on others. Maybe there was still a bit of Jack Napier within him after all.

Harleen couldn’t believe that she was finally saved from what she believed was certain death—or at least certain life with a man that she detested.

She took a breath from her cries. “Is he dead?” she asked plainly.

“Yes,” Joker replied tersely. “He’s dead.”

Harleen’s lips turned downward and her face crinkled as tears flowed from her eyes. She laid in Joker’s arms crying silently as he rocked her and held her close.

“J?” Frost called from below. “We better bolt. Someone may have heard something.”

The warehouse was in an area that was not well traveled, but they couldn’t take the risk. Union Point was a seedy commercial and industrial area perfect for a place like Joker’s club—somewhere off the radar of common folks moving through and becoming too suspicious. Though there was not a lot of activity into the nighttime hours, it would not be out of the question for their group to be spotted and reported—though the SWAT vests had helped on numerous occasions to not draw too much suspicion of their unsavory criminal activities.

Joker stood up and leaned down to pick up Harleen. Her weak body was draped in his arms as her eyes sprung open.

“My ring...” she said. “He took my ring... it’s on the table.”

Joker placed her onto Nick’s green vinyl chair and held her steady as he searched the table. He caught sight of a small plate with a few USB drives and shiny gold object—it was her ring. Grabbing it, he slid it onto her finger and kissed her on the forehead.

“There are other things, too,” she told him in a soft voice. “The computer with videos, a photo album...”

Joker thought for no more than a moment before responding. “No,” he said, leaning into her as she sat on the stool. “I don’t need to dredge up the past anymore. I have you back and that's all that matters...”

He picked up her weak body, her skin pale and clearly dehydrated, and he carefully carried her past Nick’s lifeless corpse. She looked at him—his eyes open and glazed over, his neck covered in dark red blood, his mouth slightly agape as if he were about to speak his final word. She closed her eyes tightly as Joker carried her in his arms down the steps, over the rubble, and out the door. The men made a pathway to the nearest vehicle where they helped to gently place her inside on the back seat.

“Frost,” Joker said quietly, pulling his friend aside as he closed the vehicle door. “There’s a laptop, some USB drives, and a photo album upstairs. Grab it and anything else that looks important and put it in my back office with the rest of the boxes.”

“You got it, J,” Frost said, his face mask now lifted up so he could speak more easily. “Whaddya want us to do with the body?”

“Burn it,” Joker said without missing a beat. “Burn it all.”

Frost nodded and gathered a group of men to head back into the building before torching it. They would need to be swift getting in and out, but Frost knew he could have the men into the vehicles within four minutes and safe at their homes within twenty.

“Let’s go, men,” Frost called out as he ran into the building and up the stairs.

Joker rounded the vehicle and hopped in, carefully lifting Harleen’s head so it could rest on his lap.

“Hit it, Miles,” he said as the driver pulled out and began the familiar trek to the mansion. He then directed his gaze downward as he looked at the thin, blonde woman with dirty skin lying in his lap. “Let’s go home,” Joker said as he leaned down and kissed her on the temple.

*****

Harleen awoke in a big room filled with soft light. She felt stiff and began to stretch her arms when she realized she was attached to tubes and cables that led to nearby equipment.

Vanessa jumped from her chair as she threw her book onto the floor.

“Harleen!” she exclaimed with a whisper. Her eyes were big and round and her smile was wide. Her rose leaf skin crinkled around the corners of her eyes as she looked at her friend with concern. “Oh god, Harleen, I’m so sorry... I’m so sorry...” She leaned in as she kneeled on the bed and carefully hugged her friend amidst the apparatus that had kept her alive.

“Vanessa,” Harleen attempted to speak, her mouth dry. “It’s okay... It’s not your fault...”

Vanessa gave her friend a sad smile. If they hadn’t gone out for a night on the town for _her_ birthday, then Harleen wouldn’t be in this mess. Vanessa had spent the past three weeks beating herself up over that fact.

“How do you feel?” Vanessa asked. “You’ve been asleep for almost a whole week! Dr. Evans took such good care of you...”

“Dr... Evans?” Harleen asked as pieces of the puzzle came tumbling back. “Where am I?”

“You’re at home—at your home with... Joker,” Vanessa responded with a half smile.

“So you... you know,” Harleen said as she bit her bottom lip.

Vanessa assuaged her friend’s fear with the warmest smile. “Of course... And it doesn’t change how much I love you... I even like the guy a little bit.” She chuckled and winked at her friend.

“But Dr. Evans—how is he here?” she asked.

“I’m sure you’ll hear this a hundred times, but they found you with... Nick... in the warehouse. Joker saved you, Harleen,” Vanessa said, stroking Harleen’s hair, running her fingers over the spot where Nick had cut out a large section. “I guess the only doctor he could trust was Dr. Evans. Nice guy... Anyway, they brought him here blindfolded, just like me, and we’ve been here for almost seven days now... just watching you and waiting.” She ran her finger down Harleen’s arm. “I knew you’d pull through. You’re one tough cookie.”

“What is all of this stuff?” Harleen asked as she began to realize the full scope of equipment around her.

“Oh, Dr. Evans pulled out all of the stops for you. Your man wouldn’t have it any other way,” Vanessa told her with a smile. “They said you were in such terrible shock and your body just needed time to heal and regain fluids. He took such good care of you.”

Harleen moved her hands up to her chest as terrible memories came rushing back. The handcuffs. The wheelchair. The cold floor. The lack of food. The orange light. The dirty clothes. The monster keeping her captive... Her heart began to race and Vanessa noticed the increase on the quiet monitor.

“Oh, honey, it’s okay... it’s okay,” she said, consoling her friend as she caressed her cheek. “You are safe and sound now... I should go get J before he realizes that you’ve been awake for so long.”

“Van?” Harleen said softly as her friend turned to climb down from the bed. “Van, are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

Vanessa reached for her friend’s hand and held it tightly. “I am not hurt, I swear. In fact, I’m better than I’ve ever been,” she said with a slight twinkle in her eye. “Now I need to run and get Dr. Evans and J. Stay right there!”

Harleen chuckled at the humor in her final statement—as if she were going to leave the bed in her condition. She felt tired and sore, but so much better than she did sleeping on the floor of her dungeon. She started to remember it all. The syringes full of whatever concoction the madman had created. The screaming birds. The man’s mouth on her breast and her thoughts of pregnancy. The videos... She thought about the videos—Jessica’s final video, in particular—and she felt a wave of emotion roll over her body. Her stomach was tense and she felt sick.

She looked down at her body and realized that she was clean. She was wearing a clean bra and she was covered in several layers of clean, white sheets. She remembered being carried down the steps in the warehouse—in complete fear that the monster on the ground would somehow rise up again and steal her away. She remembered Joker holding her, telling her that everything would be okay. His words were calm and quiet and she held onto them for dear life. She remembered being placed in a bath and feeling the layers upon layers of dirt wash from her body as she began to relax, knowing that she was with Joker and he had saved her.

In her entire life, she never knew her heart could yearn so much for the presence of a person like the way she yearned for Joker. She felt like she knew so much more about him now—especially his personality as Jack Napier and his life with Jessica—and it only made her heart grow even fonder for him. She was in pain, but he must have experienced far worse pain. He rarely showed it... he _never_ showed it. But she could feel it in his soft kisses and the way he calmly told her that she would be okay and that he had her now. She laid back onto her pillows and closed her eyes.

*****


	29. Chapter 29

“Harley?” Harleen heard Joker’s garbled voice speak, as if he were behind a wall of water. “Harley...” his voice grew closer.

She felt someone sit on the bed next to her and a warm hand cup her cheek. She immediately recognized the light scent of his cologne. Her eyes fluttered open in the muted light of the white room and she turned her head to see her visitor. Her heart must have skipped a beat that most certainly would have been picked up on the equipment she was attached to. Her eyes filled with tears of joy as she laid them upon Joker’s beautiful, pale face. His green hair fell into his eyes as he leaned in to kiss her on the forehead.

“Welcome back, kitten,” he said, grabbing her free hand and kissing her fingers as they wrapped around his in a delicate embrace. “I’ve... missed you so much.”

As she looked at his face, she couldn’t help but see the similarities between Joker and Jack. They were still one in the same person, she thought, and she loved them both. Her heart broke for both. She had a million thoughts and things she wanted to tell him but just couldn’t bring herself to speak. She laid in silence as he continued to kiss her hand and rub her arm.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t find you sooner,” he said, his eyes full of remorse. “I’m so sorry...”

He leaned in to kiss her cheek as he spoke his words to her. The fact that she was so close to him the entire time—less than a hundred yards away—pained him greatly. He felt like a failure, like a fool... He had certainly taken his anger out over the past week with the indoor firing range and batting cage, not to mention a few tennis matches with Evans. Even though he had kept both Evans and Vanessa essentially captive for the past week, he at least gave them opportunities to have fun and eat to their heart’s content.

“I don’t know what he did to you,” Joker continued, “but I hope you’ll tell me someday.”

Harleen opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words. She wanted to tell him about everything—the psychological torment, the physical torment, the emotional torment—but the words just wouldn’t come out. There was a long silence as they looked into each other’s eyes.

“I saw the note,” he finally said as he placed his hand very gently upon her lower abdomen. “I know... I know I said I never wanted to have children, but... it’s okay.” He slowly moved his eyes up to Harleen’s and she opened her mouth to speak yet again just as a knock on the door interrupted their moment.

“Dr. Quinzel?” Evans opened the door slightly and called in. “May I come in?”

“Yes,” Harleen squeaked out—her first words with Joker in the room as she had been silently watching him the whole time unable to find her voice.

Evans stepped into the big room and stood at the foot of the king-sized bed. “Oh, Harleen,” he said, pulling his lips together so his big mustache covered them. “I was so worried about you...”

“Yeah, he sure was,” Joker said softly as he continued to rub his hand gently across her abdomen.

“It’s so good to see you awake,” Evans said. “How are you feeling?”

“Henry...” Harleen spoke with a tremor in her voice, “that... man... injected me over and over with fluid. He said it was a vector virus...” Joker clenched his jaw and looked at her with slight alarm. “And then he said that he was injecting me with a toxin and its antidote... Did you happen to run a tox screen?”

Evans sighed and shook his head. “Yes,” he said as held a clipboard in front of his body and folded his arms around it. “We did do a tox screen. I over-nighted it from here to a lab that I use. Frost also saw the syringes on the table and grabbed them.” He pulled his eyes up from the end of the bed and looked directly at her. “Harleen... there was nothing. We tested a whole panel of possibilities and there was nothing that was harmful... You had high levels of a benzodiazepine like the ones found in a few vials, but definitely nothing life-threatening. We just decided to let things run its course.”

“But he... he...” Harleen stuttered and looked over at Joker and silently observed the bright green of his hair, the paleness of his skin, his lack of body hair. Would she ever find the courage within her to tell him that he was the result of a genetic experiment at the hands of his best friend—that he had been injected several times with a vector virus intent on changing his physical form? “He told me he was going to give me wings and turn me into an angel...”

Evans walked around to the side of the bed opposite of the Joker and touched her on her shoulder. His hand was thick and huge and she felt comforted with him there. “Harleen, we found nothing... It’s okay, I promise.”

Harleen looked at Evans’ warm hazel eyes as he tried to reassure her that she was safe. A deep crease down the center of his forehead between his furrowed eyebrows demonstrated concern as the corners of his lips turned slightly upward in a mournful smile. She looked from his warm face to the relative coldness of Joker’s penetrating blue stare and his sharp jaw line. He couldn’t bring himself to take his eyes off of her.

“Harleen,” Evans began as he looked over at Joker, “forgive me for asking, but I need to ask you a few questions.”

“Maybe cool it with the question and answer session, doc,” Joker snapped as he met Evans’ gaze.

Harleen reached her hand over to Joker’s thigh and gave his tight muscles a slight squeeze. “No, J, it’s okay. I’m awake, I’m here... I can answer questions.”

Evans pursed his lips together and shook his head up and down as Harleen turned to look at him. “Good, good...” he said as he looked at the notes on his clipboard. “I just have a few questions... We don’t have access to a CT scan, obviously... but we didn’t think you had any internal injuries. Did he hurt you in any way like that?”

“No, I don’t think so...” Harleen said as she looked down at her hands now folded across her chest. “I was chained to a chair, but that didn’t hurt, and there were handcuffs around my wrists.” She examined the bruising on her arms and hands.

“He didn’t... sexually assault you, did he?” Evans asked as Joker made a sharp sigh and let his mouth hang agape while he stared at Harleen.

“No... no he did not, I’m pretty sure of it,” she said, much to Joker’s great relief.

“Okay, I just have one more question for you...” Evans said as he swallowed, looking up at Joker and back to Harleen. “Are you... pregnant?”

Harleen paused and stared at Joker’s hand which had come to rest on her abdomen. She thought of Joker’s words from just minutes ago. Her heart leapt for joy at the thought of carrying his child and then was plunged into a dark abyss. She knew she could never have children with this man. He was too dangerous. His lifestyle was too hazardous. What kind of life would a child have in a mansion raised by an unlikely couple—a gangster and a psychologist? Surrounded by privilege... with access to the best education... The more Harleen gave it thought, the more it didn’t sound so outlandish.

“I am... _not_ pregnant,” she said as she placed her hand on top of Joker’s hand, pulling it up to her lips and kissing it. “It was a ruse... a total ruse by Nick. Honestly, I think he had wanted me to be pregnant so he could murder me like... like...” Harleen paused knowing that she didn’t want to reveal too much to Evans about Joker’s past life. “Like another woman he had murdered. He was obsessed with her...”

Joker stared at her blankly upon hearing the revelation that he was not going to be a father—yet another element of psychological torment that Nick had dangled in front of him. He clenched his jaw even harder and thought about how much pleasure he derived from murdering his former friend. The look of shock in Nick's eyes as he bled out was particularly satisfying—the same look his uncle gave him—and the memory served to console him for the moment.

“It’s okay,” Joker said in a mere whisper as he sensed Harleen’s anxiety. “It’s okay.”

Harleen had tried to keep herself together in front of Evans, a former colleague at Arkham Asylum, but could no longer hold back her tears. Her lips turned downward into a deep frown as her eyes overflowed with sadness and her body shook. Joker duly reached out and pulled himself in to embrace her, the act itself causing her to sob with abandon. Hot tears marched down her cheeks as she buried her face into his neck.

Joker looked up at Evans as he held Harleen and shook his head up and down. Evans nodded in agreement and left the room. He understood that they would need privacy.

Joker held Harleen until she had no more tears to shed. Her eyes were pink and swollen as they stared into his. Joker kicked off his shoes and removed his shirt before sliding under the covers next to Harleen and pulling her into his thin, muscular frame. He continued to hold her as her body trembled. She had been in shock and he knew that she would need time to recuperate.

As he rested his head on the soft pillow, he stroked her hair and kissed her on the top of her head. The world knew him as a monster—and maybe he was one—but he at least knew he was a monster with a heart. He could finally breathe now that he had her. He could finally sleep.

*****

Several days had passed and Harleen was given the all clear from Evans that she could start eating a more normal diet and start incorporating low-level exercise into her daily activities. He was eventually sent home with a nice check to compensate him for the time he had spent helping Harleen build up her strength.

“I can’t take this,” he told Joker in his office as he was handed a check.

“Well, then, think of it as your retainer fee,” Joker said as he lazily tossed his pen to the edge of his desk.

Evans looked at the pale man with bright green hair and smirked beneath his bushy mustache. He had surely hoped he would never be called upon again for assistance, but he knew he would step in to help in a heartbeat—especially if Harleen were in trouble. He shook his head up and down and turned to walk out of Joker’s office.

“Dr. Evans,” Joker said as the man neared the door. “Thank you... for everything.”

Evans looked back at Joker and realized that it probably took a lot of guts on Joker’s parts to show his vulnerability with those words. He nodded his head up and down in silence as he looked back at Joker before leaving the room and into the hallway that led to a beautiful reception area. Frost was waiting for the man and reached out his hand for a shake. To Frost, Evans was his savior, having saved his life by completely repairing a bullet wound to his thigh. Frost looked Evans directly in the eye and gripped the man’s hand as he shook it up and down.

“Thank you, again, Dr. Evans,” Frost said. “You are literally a lifesaver.”

“Anytime, I guess,” Evans said with a resigned half-chuckle as he held up the check Joker had given him.

Frost pulled a black mask from his jacket pocket and held it up to Evans with an apologetic smile. “Sorry,” he said, “but we can’t risk it.”

Evans returned the smile and nodded knowing it was for his protection to be masked as he was driven home. “I understand,” he stated as he took the mask and headed to the elevator followed by Frost.

“Jonny?” a voice called out to him from down the long hallway. It was Vanessa walking quickly to see him before he rounded the corner.

“Hang on, I’ll be right there,” Frost called to Evans as he took a few steps toward Vanessa.

“Will you... be coming back?” she asked, trying to hide a flirtatious smile.

Frost chuckled at the question. “You bet, V. You _promised_ me that we would play Exploding Kittens and I don’t take promises lightly,” he said with a smile. “Plus, I have to drive you home myself... but... maybe dinner first?”

Vanessa guffawed a little too eagerly at the suggestion of a date with Frost and she couldn’t stop smiling. She was certain that her face was glowing with deep pink blush.

“Sounds like a plan,” she said with a smile still plastered across her face.

Frost reached his hand out and gently held her forearm, before stepping backward and letting go.

“Good,” Frost responded with a wink.

He had spent the better part of a week getting to know Vanessa, who refused to leave and insisted that she help out with Harleen. He found Vanessa to have an incredible sense of humor and a sarcastic wit. Her laugh would fill a room and make the dullest person smile. Frost was starting to enjoy her company and he wanted to get to know her a little bit more outside of the confines of the mansion.

It had been ages since Frost had considered having a relationship and he was looking forward to seeing where the future might take them. He admitted to himself that she was starting to creep into his thoughts and keep him up late at night—it was hard _not_ to on account of her beauty. The way she looked in her jeans made him want to stare all day and he was certain she had caught him ogling.

“I’ll see you later,” Vanessa said, his fingers were like electricity running down her arm as he stepped away. She had told Harleen about the spark between her and Frost and, to Vanessa's surprise, her friend was excited for her and gave her wholehearted approval.

Vanessa walked back to the stairwell in the hallway and up to Harleen’s room with a huge smile on her face knowing that Frost was feeling the same way she was.

*****


	30. Chapter 30

It had been almost a week since Vanessa and Evans had left and Harleen was still slowly coming out of her shock from two weeks of being held captive. She was grateful for every warm meal, every clean sheet, every hot shower, every glorious scent of fresh roses as Joker had them replaced daily in their room. He cooked his famous amazing egg omelets for her just the way she loved them and he doted on her, providing her with her every possible need and want.

On the first day she could get out of bed and into the shower, she couldn’t get over the feeling of the water running over her body, still feeling the dirt and grime from the disgusting dungeon that Nick kept her in. For two weeks, she didn’t have a chance to bathe and she would spend hours in the shower and bath just trying to dissolve herself in the water.

On this Saturday after another delicious breakfast, Harleen stood in the water and turned it to hot, almost so hot that it burned. All she could think of was how cold she was curled up on the hard floor of her grimy room, her once beautiful dress—a gift from Joker—balled up into a pillow as her legs pulled in tightly to her body. She let the water run through her long hair as she shivered and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Harley, are you okay?” Joker asked as he opened the glass door to the huge shower stall.

The water fell from a large shower head above like a heavy rain. She shook her head up and down as she continued to look down at the floor, her body facing his. Joker pulled off his green boxer briefs and tossed them to the floor, stepping into the shower.

“Jesus!” he exclaimed quietly in an attempt to not alarm her. “You sure have it hot in here... it’s 115 degrees, Harley,” he said as he looked at the temperature control on the wall. He dropped it down to 105 and then wrapped his arms around her. “I’ll keep you warm.”

It had been a difficult week or so since Harleen had woken up. She was quiet—quieter than she wanted to be around Joker. She was having a hard time grappling with the two personalities that she had been presented with: the Joker that she knew and the Jack that she had glimpsed. Her heart wept for Jack and she couldn’t turn off that emotion. In some ways, she wished that her Joker would be more like Jack. She had witnessed occasions when he was light-hearted, but they were always short lived. She wished that she could have had a chance to meet him as Jack. She was preoccupied with the videos as they consumed her thoughts. _Nick is dead,_ she thought to herself, _but he’s still messing with my mind._

“Hey, what’s going on in that head of yours, doc?” Joker asked with a half smile as he pulled back to look at her.

He had desperately wanted to kiss her deeply but had held back knowing that she was not ready. He stared at her standing in the water as she looked up to meet his gaze. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, even in her silent anguish. He couldn’t help it as the blood rushed to his pelvis causing him to stiffen in excitement. He took a deep breath and tried to control himself as he felt his erection pulsate in the warmth of the water falling onto his body.

Harleen smiled sadly at him and uncrossed her arms, moving one hand to his shoulder. “I love you, J... Thank you...” she said, her voice trailing off.

“Thank you for what?” he asked.

“For saving me... for loving me...” she responded as she moved closer to his body. She knew he was aroused—he was always in an aroused state when she was naked—and she moved her other hand to grab him carefully on his hardened cock.

The moment she looked at his lips was when Joker decided to lean in and kiss her, his lips gently pressing against hers at first and then parting as the kiss deepened.

“Oh god, Harley... I’ve missed you...” Joker said in a low and gritty voice in between kisses. She was holding his cock steady in her hand, but he was so aroused that he thought he would explode then and there without much more stimulation.

Harleen pulled her right hand to her mouth and licked it, covering it with her saliva—being careful to not let it wash away in the water. She then placed it on his shaft and began to stroke in a slow rhythm. His tattooed chest began to heave with each breath before he leaned in to kiss her again. Impatient with the slow tease, he placed his hand on hers and began to speed up the pace. He firmly held the back of her head in place as he continued to kiss her, their tongues pushing past each others lips while gaining entrance to their worlds of liquid warmth. Joker paused his kiss and looked into her eyes as he could feel the pressure build between his legs. He was ready and his body genuinely needed the release.

“Can I...” he started to ask without finishing his sentence.

“Yes,” Harleen responded as she began to stroke him even faster, which was the catalyst to set him off.

He leaned into her ear and exhaled as a powerful orgasm tore through his body, almost causing him to lose his balance before he could reach a hand out to the wall to steady himself. He pressed his body against hers as he continued to breathe heavily into her hair.

Finally, catching his breath, he managed to speak. “Thank you,” he said in a whisper as he held her close.

*****

“Harls, you’re quiet,” Joker observed as she dried herself off with a fluffy white towel.

Joker sat on the bed, towel wrapped around his lower half and watched Harleen enter and emerge from their walk-in closet with new underclothing in her hands. She flipped her head upside-down and skillfully wrapped the towel around her head before stepping into her panties and putting on her bra.

She looked over at the love of her life and began to feel guilty that she was being so quiet with him. She didn’t intend to push him away.

“When you—the therapist—are quiet, then I know something is wrong... Please talk to me,” Joker pleaded with her.

She walked over to the bed and sat down next to him. “I’m sorry,” she said remorsefully. “I’m so sorry.”

“What are you so sorry about? You have nothing to be sorry about,” he assured her as he turned to caress her cheek and push her hair behind her ear.

“I...” she started, not being able to find her words.

“I’m not going to be mad about anything,” he said as he looked into her eyes. “I promise.”

Harleen bit her lower lip and her mouth turned to a stiff frown. “I’m just sorry for everything. I’m sorry that I was so _stupid_... that I let Nick take me... He could have really hurt Vanessa...”

“It’s okay,” Joker responded gently, “he didn’t hurt Vanessa and you’re home safe and sound now.”

“But... but he...”

“He what?”

“I lived in a small room and barely had any food and he was drugging me... and... I’m sorry that you found that note. I was delirious when he made me write it...” Harleen said, her eyes starting to well with tears.

“It’s okay, everything is okay.” His voice was calm and steady.

“But he chained me to that chair several times a day and he... he injected me...”

“I know he did, but it was nothing. Don’t worry about it,” Joker replied, trying to soothe her.

“And then he played these videos...” she said as she paused to look at him. “They were videos... videos of you and Jessica.”

“Shh... It’s okay,” Joker said again as he put his hands on hers in her lap.

“No, it’s not okay,” Harleen said, her voice rising slightly in its tone. “They were just home videos and now they are burned into my mind. I... I close my eyes and that’s what I see. I see you and I see Jessica... And I’m so sorry.” The tears that had welled up were now pouring down her cheeks. Joker opened his mouth again to console her, but she kept talking.

“You had everything. You had a home. You had good jobs. She was pregnant with... with your son. You... you were gorgeous and so was she.” She paused not knowing how he would take her next statement. “You were... you were normal. And you were happy—like real happy and not fake happy... Jessica was absolutely beautiful, like she literally stepped out of a fashion magazine. And you had such a good time together... you were such a perfect fit...” Harleen took a deep breath and continued, “He made me watch her final video. He recorded it like... He was so proud of it, he said. It made me sick to my stomach. I’m so sorry that she had to be taken from you like that and by your best friend... I’m so sorry... I’m so sorry...” She couldn’t keep herself from apologizing over and over.

“Oh, kitten, _I’m_ sorry you had to see that,” he said as he reached his arms around her and held her as she sobbed.

He had watched some of the videos that Frost had found on Nick’s laptop even though he had promised himself that he wouldn’t look at any of them. Though only thirteen years had passed, it seemed both so long ago and also just like yesterday. He missed Jessica and he thought about her everyday for years until he broke Nick’s back and put him in jail. And then, it seemed, his curse was lifted. He had a new life building an empire, which expanded to include Harleen.

“There’s something else,” Harleen revealed through her tears. “Something that Nick did to you.”

“Shh,” he said again, as if he were a broken record. “It’s okay. You can tell me later.” He squeezed her hard with his strong arms and she seemed to melt within them.

“Okay,” Harleen replied, feeling relaxed at his words as he continued to hold her for many minutes.

“I missed you so much,” Joker finally stated softly in her ear as she wept on his shoulder. He felt as much guilt as she did, having allowed her to leave his sight. “You’re mine forever and I’m never letting go,” he whispered to her as he pushed one arm under her legs and placed the other firmly behind her back lifting her from the edge of the bed.

He carried her to the opposite side of the bed and carefully placed her down, as if she were a fragile glass ornament and he was placing her into a cushioned packaging. He sat next to her, still wearing the towel around his waist, and looked down at her body. Her skin no longer looked dehydrated and overly pale and her bruises started to disappear. He couldn’t help but feel the familiar twitch in his loins as he leaned in to kiss her.

Harleen opened her lips and invited Joker’s tongue inside as she reached up to grab a well-sculpted bicep. She felt it flex in her hands as he leaned even closer and began to position himself over top of her body. He smiled wickedly as she pulled the towel away from his waist to reveal his hardened cock. She felt a warmth pulse throughout her veins as he lowered himself on top of her and pressed himself into her pelvis.

In her dark dungeon with the tiled walls and cold concrete floor, she had dreamt about finally being back in his arms—strong and warm and safe. She stared into his serious eyes, round in shape as he looked into hers.

He wanted to consume her, to make her his forever, to protect her and keep her. As long as she was beneath him in their bed, she would never leave. He pushed his pelvis into hers again and began to rock slowly up and down as he reached for the waistband of her underwear. He wanted to be inside of her to prove to Nick, to the world, or maybe to the universe that they belonged together and nothing would ever tear them apart.

Harleen moaned softly as Joker kissed her and pressed his body into hers. She tried to force the awful thoughts from her mind—thoughts of Nick and his syringes, thoughts of her feelings of sadness, thoughts of the harrowing video—and she tried to focus on the man above her. He aroused feelings within her that she was afraid she would never feel again. But her mind always returned to Jessica. Jessica blowing out candles, Jessica at the piano, Jessica opening presents, Jessica making love to Jack, Jessica on the floor with her neck sliced open...

“I really want to be inside of you,” he growled as pawed at her underwear in an attempt to pull them down. “You make me so hard, Harley.”

Harleen’s abdomen fluttered at his statement and she could feel herself become even wetter hearing his words. The thought of Joker pushing in and pulling out until they both reached ecstasy sent tingles through her body. But she just wasn’t ready.

“I’m sorry, J... I just can’t,” she told him as she pulled his torso down onto her chest for an embrace. “I’m... I’m not ready yet.”

Joker rolled off of her body and onto his side as his chest remained glued to hers. He rested his head onto the pillow and stared into the soft bluish-green eyes of the woman lying next to him.

“It’s okay,” he said, knowing that it would take some time for her to recover from an event as traumatic as she had been through. As much as he had wanted to plunge himself inside of her warmth until the tension escaped his body, he knew that he would have to practice a modicum of patience. He held her until they both fell asleep as the mid-morning sun of late November streamed through their wall of windows.

*****

Joker awoke with a start, hearing his phone vibrate on an end stand. He knew it had to be Frost and that it would be urgent. Joker huffed and rolled his eyes as he reached for his phone, answering it gruffly.

“J... We have a slight situation here,” Frost said with a tinge of disquiet in his voice.

“What is it?” Joker asked, sitting up and stretching his back.

“Well... there is a woman at the gate. She says her name is... Rose Richards... and she got an invitation in the mail to talk to someone about Jack... Jack Napier...” Frost stated with hesitation.

Joker was quiet as a million thoughts flooded his mind. His Aunt Rose was here. _At his home. At the Joker’s lair._ He knew Nick was behind all of this and he also knew that he couldn’t just turn her away. How much had Nick told her about his new identity? He knew he would have to handle this visit with care. He looked over at Harleen who was now wide-eyed with a concerned look on her face. It wasn’t often that she saw him speechless.

“Just... let her in the gate. Bring her in and have her sit down but don’t let her go anywhere. I don’t want her wandering around. And don’t say a word, you got it?” Joker asked as a bit of apprehension entered his voice.

“Well, can I offer her a drink maybe?” Frost retorted to his friend in a playful yet somewhat annoyed manner.

Joker growled at the comment. “No. Give us ten minutes,” he commanded before hanging up the phone.

“What’s going on? Is someone here?” Harleen asked, her mouth hanging lightly agape.

Joker sighed and tossed the phone onto the bed. “Harls, there are some things I recently learned about my past... I’ll share it with you, just not right now. I just don’t...” his voice trailed off.

“J, it’s okay,” Harleen responded as she got onto her knees and moved toward him. “You don’t have to share with me. I feel like I’ve already seen things that I shouldn’t have...” she told him, referring to all of their private moments caught on video. “But what does this have to do with Frost? Is someone here?”

“Yeah,” he responded as he looked down at his phone. “It’s a woman... I haven’t seen her in a long time. A really long time...”

“Who is it?” Harleen asked in a whisper as she caressed his face.

“She took care of me, Harley,” Joker admitted. “I owe her everything. She cared for me and I wasn’t even hers to care for.”

Harleen looked into his eyes and thought for a moment. “What can I do? Do you... do you want _me_ to go down and talk to her? I mean, clearly you can’t,” she said as she looked at his bright green hair. “Is she the kind of person who would understand why you became who you became?”

Joker shook his head back and forth. “No, she wouldn’t. And, yes, I need you to go down in my place... Just follow her lead. You’ll know what to say.”

*****


	31. Chapter 31

Harleen finished applying the final touches to a quick makeup job before jumping into a pair of dark gray slacks and a light gray sweater with a large, billowing neckline. Instead of taking the elevator, the pair hastily descended down the two flights of stairs to the main floor with Joker heading straight into his office, which was hidden from the view of the large reception room. He proceeded to his private inner office where he watched and listened to the entire exchange on camera.

Harleen, looking professional yet also disarming, approached the older woman sitting on a couch next to her purse.

“Hi,” Harleen said warmly as she held out a hand. “You must be Rose Richards?”

The woman with dark hair and only a few hints of gray stood up and faced the beautiful blonde approaching her.

“I am,” she replied with an uncertain smile. “I, um... I’m sorry to drop in like this, but I received this... in the mail.” She pulled out an envelope with a heavy cardstock paper inside. “I actually got it a couple of weeks ago, but I was afraid to stop by... It says that a man named Jack Napier made a large gift a long time ago and that you wanted to try to collect as much information on your donors as possible... But, I mean, you probably know about this invitation and I’m sorry I took so long...”

“Actually,” Harleen said as she pulled her lips to the side in thought, “I work in, uh, HR, so I don’t really see stuff like this... The rest of our staff—other than the man you met—“

“Jim Wilson?” Rose asked, interrupting Harleen.

“Jim, yes, Jim...” Harleen responded, thankful that she didn’t let Frost’s name slip out. “We’re sort of on a skeleton crew right now since a lot of people took time off for the Thanksgiving holiday... but I think I can help you.”

Harleen knew that Joker would want her to quickly send Rose on her way, but she really wanted to hear what the woman had to say. There was something immediately appealing about her personality—maybe it was the humility and the kindness that she could see in her eyes—not to mention the fact that she might potentially know a little bit about Jack Napier before he became Joker. She knew she couldn’t let this opportunity pass by.

“My name is Harleen, by the way. What can you share with me about Jack... Jack Napier?”

Rose smiled, reaching for the invitation as Harleen handed it back to her. “Harleen... that’s a really pretty name,” she said as the woman in front of her flashed a perfect white smile. “I, uh, I knew Jack when he was just a little boy...”

Harleen’s eyes widened and her lower lip dropped. “You knew J—er, Jack—when he was little?” she asked in near disbelief. She almost couldn’t imagine the Joker as a child. He was so strong and powerful—how could he ever have been a child?

“I... I did,” Rose swallowed hard and her words sounded sticky in her mouth like she was nervous.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Rose. Can I get you anything to drink? Water? Tea?” Harleen searched the woman’s face for an answer.

“Um, yes, a water would be nice, thank you so much,” Rose responded timidly.

“Not a problem... Let me send off a message to... Jim,” Harleen told her as she pulled out her phone. _Bring 2 glasses of water w ice plz,_ she typed to Frost and hit send. “Done... He should be here in just a bit... So, tell me, how did you know Jack as a child?”

“Well, Jackie—er Jack, I mean—was my nephew. I was married to his uncle, who was a real, um, well, just a really terrible person. William...” she said his name with a whisper as she looked down at her aging hands and shook her head back and forth. “This was over thirty years ago, mind you. I was so young... I was so... stupid...”

“It’s okay,” Harleen said calmly as she reached out to place a hand on Rose’s shoulder, her therapist instincts kicking in.

“Jackie was an amazing little boy... I knew him when he was eight years old. He was so talented and smart. I just knew he was going to make something of himself... I have so many good memories of spending time with him.” Rose paused and caressed an old silver Celtic cross that hung from her neck. “Jack, h-he had a good home life... He had parents who absolutely adored him and the rest of their children. They had a perfect house and almost anything they could ever want. But Jackie was never spoiled, and he always shared... He really brought a smile to my face when I spent time with him.”

Frost arrived in the reception area with two drinks and set them on a coffee table near the two women. He shared a glance with Harleen and raised his eyebrows knowing that Joker would not be happy that she had decided to start an extended conversation with his Aunt Rose. The women thanked Frost and began to drink as he walked away.

“Thing is... Jackie was so resilient. He just had that personality, I guess,” Rose continued.

“What makes you say that?” Harleen asked as she placed her glass back down onto its coaster.

“Um, well, Jack lost his entire family that year... They all died in a car accident—an accident that I know my ex-husband caused...”

“Jack’s uncle killed his family? That’s... that’s really tragic,” Harleen said, tilting her head at the woman as she recalled the session at Arkham when Joker became prolix about his past and revealed to her the fact that he had lost his family in a car accident on Long Island.

“It really was... life wasn’t the same for me or Jack after that day...” Rose responded. “We took him in... well, more like _I_ took him in. His uncle was just a horrible human being, if he could even be called that.”

“What made him so horrible, if I might ask?” Harleen inquired, her eyes full of concern and empathy.

Rose looked at Harleen before closing her eyes and turning her face down to her lap, her hand immediately reaching for her abdomen. The thought of the abuse she had experienced at William’s hands—how he had carved the beginning of his name into her stomach. She thought of how he womanized every female who would give him the time of day. She thought of how he used to force Jack to hold his gun and how one day he came home from a poker game with his shirt splattered with blood. She thought of how he had gripped her throat while raping her in their own bed only to be given gifts of jewelry after the act. She thought about the times when he was completely intoxicated and he would gloat about how he killed people. He would empty his entire gun on a person even though they were long dead.

“He was a womanizer, an alcoholic, an abuser... a killer... and he had no compunction. I was so young. I was only twenty-one years old. I really didn’t know any better,” she tried to explain. “I don’t know why I put up with it for so long... There were days that I had just _wished_ I had never even met the man. But then I think about little Jackie and... I don’t know... things made a little sense. He gave me purpose.”

“So... what happened to William?” Harleen asked quietly, knowing that he was a difficult memory to dredge up.

Rose looked at Harleen as tears filled her pretty dark brown eyes. “I...I killed him in self defense,” she stated almost clinically or robotically, like she had practiced saying it over and over until she believed it. “He was going to kill me and Jack and... I... I had to do something.”

“I’m so sorry... that must have been so hard for you,” Harleen said, rubbing her shoulder and letting her know that she passed no judgment on her for her act.

“It was an awful time—just awful. I was so young and I didn’t know what to do. I was Jack’s only caretaker... I didn’t know what to do...” Rose said again as she pressed her lips together in an attempt to not cry. “I had to give him up. He was like a son to me and I had to give him up... It was the hardest thing I ever had to do in my whole life. I can’t believe I gave little Jackie up...” At that moment, Rose burst into tears and Harleen moved closer to her on the couch, first putting her arms around the petite woman and then pulling her in for an embrace.

“It’s okay,” Harleen said, trying to reassure her. The irony was not lost on Harleen that she and Joker had just been in this exact position early in the morning with Joker resolute in his claim that everything was okay.

Harleen looked around the room and spotted a box of tissues as she stood up to retrieve them for Rose. Harleen wanted to know what Rose meant by having to give him up but she wanted to make sure that she framed her question with care. Did she place him in the foster system? Was he sent to a group home?

“I’m sure that you made the only choice that you thought was best for Jack.”

Rose smiled through her tears and shook her head. “It was the best choice,” she said. “A boy like that deserved so much more than where I came from, which was a working class family with hardly a high school education... I was lucky because I had a taste of college before I met William. I knew how important an education was... That’s why I sent Jackie to boarding school...”

“Ohh...” Harleen responded, the realization present in her voice. It was a small piece of the puzzle, but it helped her understand how he had grown from Jack at a young age without a family to Jack as a relatively well-adjusted adult earning a doctorate with a fiancée by his side.

“Yeah, I’m not sure if I mentioned it, but the Napier family had money—a _lot_ of money. I used quite a bit of it to ensure that he would have a good education while the rest of it remained in an educational trust for his college fund,” Rose explained. “I just wish I could go back in time and tell him that I’m sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Harleen asked. “It sounds like you made some really tough decisions under some equally tough circumstances.”

“I just... I’ve regretted it my entire life—not staying with him through to... the end. I was his only family and I _abandoned_ him,” she said with a heavy guilt in her voice.

“Well, he turned out to be a lovely person,” Harleen replied with a sad smile.

“Oh, did you know Jack?” Rose asked, her eyes perking up at her statement.

“I... I...” Harleen stammered, “I knew him through a good friend. I know that he was smart and really loving. He was funny and had a good sense of humor...”

Rose gasped loudly. “Ah! That sounds just like my Jackie!” she exclaimed, excitement growing in her voice and her eyes getting wider. “He was the most generous little boy... He used to make me cars and things out of Legos and then tell me that they were for me. And this one time... oh, it was so adorable... he built me a house and told me that we would live in it. He even had little figures on it—one to represent me and one for him. He was so sweet...”

Harleen smiled at the woman, wanting to share with her what really happened to Jack. _He was experimented on by his best friend and pushed into a basin full of pharmaceutical chemicals after which he lived on the street before making a name for himself as The Joker. Yes, Jack Napier is still alive. He’s The Joker. Your precious little boy has grown up to become a monster._ But she would never speak a word of it. She couldn’t do that to the woman who already had a huge mass of guilt weighing down her shoulders.

“I wonder what he would be like today... he’d be about forty years old, I think. Exactly forty... yeah,” she pondered as she looked at a painting of a blue heron on the wall. “I’m sorry... I guess I’m not really all that helpful...”

“Oh my, don’t worry about it one bit—you were great. And I really appreciate you sharing your story with me,” Harleen told her.

“Oh, Harleen, you are so easy to talk to. Thanks for listening... You’re a sweet person. Maybe you should think about a change in careers? Get into counseling maybe? I actually run a counseling program for inner-city youths...”

“Ha,” Harleen laughed aloud, “I’m actually licensed psychologist... I’m just taking a break from counseling for now.” Harleen thought about how she helped to break Joker out of the asylum, but not without a death toll.

Rose paused and looked at Harleen with a perplexed look on her face. “Oh, my goodness! You’re that doctor who was kidnapped from... where was it? Sing-Sing? No, Arkham Asylum!” Rose grabbed Harleen’s hand with both of her own. “I’m so sorry... that must have been terrifying. I remember hearing how you were kidnapped by... the _Joker_...” she said with a whisper. “Gosh, I’m so sorry about that. He reminds me a lot of... of... my ex William...”

“Oh... well, things were a little exaggerated... He’s really not as bad as he seems. I mean, yeah, he’s a bad guy, but I think... I think he’s just a very troubled person with a difficult history... I learn more about him every day and understand him a bit more,” Harleen said, wanting to chuckle out loud at her last statement.

“Wow... well, I always thought that you must be one tough cookie to endure that,” Rose said, still holding Harleen’s hands.

Harleen looked down at Rose’s hands and smiled. “Thanks, I... I appreciate that,” Harleen said, her words sincere.

“Listen, at my non-profit for at-risk youths...” Rose began as she pulled her hands away from Harleen and started to dig in her purse. “We could use someone like you. Someone who will listen... Someone who has experience dealing with, you know, _difficult_ populations.” She pulled out a business card and wiped imaginary dust off of it with her fingers. “Here... take a look at the website and think about it. I know you’re probably full-time here, but we could always use some part-time help and in the evenings, too.” She handed Harleen the card and continued. “No pressure, seriously. Just think about it and let me know.”

“Th-thanks,” Harleen stuttered, astonished at the offer. She wanted to tell Rose right then and there that she would do it, but she knew better. She knew Joker was watching and listening. He would never let her do something like that—especially for a woman who was his aunt and who knew so much about his past. “I will look into it and let you know... They, uh, sure keep me busy around here,” Harleen explained.

Rose smiled as her soft brown eyes searched Harleen’s. Her wavy black hair framed her pretty heart-shaped face perfectly as she stood up from the couch.

“Well, I do hope I was helpful, Harleen,” Rose stated as she straightened out her coat.

Harleen followed suit, standing up to meet Rose at eye level. “It was really helpful and I... we really appreciate it.”

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Rose somewhat exclaimed. “Since you knew Jack...”

Harleen shook her head up and down.

“Well, I want to show you...” she said as she began to search through her purse again. She pulled out a day planner and opened it, revealing a pocket inside the front cover. “I always keep this with me wherever I go,” she told Harleen as she reached in and carefully retrieved a faded old photo. “This was me and Jack—see, you can even see some of his little Lego creations that he built sitting on the table... This was during the summer just before his family died in their accident.”

Harleen gingerly took the photo from Rose’s fingers and pulled it into view. Her mouth fell open and tears began to fill her eyes as she stared at the young boy in the photo. It was Joker as a child. He had messy brown hair and big blue eyes and a face that was incredibly happy. He was wearing a white shirt with blue sleeves with the words Pac-Man in the center, brown corduroy pants, and white socks. Rose wore a somewhat oversized white blouse with puffy shoulders, black slacks, and a colorful vest that could have been the same print used on furniture upholstery. She was young and beautiful with bright eyes and black hair parted in the middle and styled with what must have been a ton of hairspray. Harleen’s eyes studied the photo for a long time as she blinked tears down her cheeks.

“He must have been more important to you than you realize,” Rose said as she put her hand on Harleen’s shoulder.

“I... uh, yes,” Harleen stammered as she tried to snap out the staring contest she was having with young Jack’s eyes in the photo. “I guess... I guess you’re right,” she said as she tried to memorize every little detail about the picture before handing it back to Rose. “Thank you so much for sharing that with me. You have no idea how much it means to me.”

“You’re so welcome, my dear,” Rose said as she took the photo and placed it safely back in her planner. “I look at that picture every single day as a reminder that I need to always do more... no matter what, more can be done.”

“Thank you,” Harleen said as Rose reached her arms out for a hug. “Thank you so much,” she whispered in Rose’s ear.

“Make sure you think about it,” Rose said as she broke from the embrace and gestured at the business card in Harleen’s hand. “I don’t believe this is a coincidence, Harleen... I hope I get to hear from you soon.”

“Thank you... and be safe on your drive back,” Harleen told her as Rose left the front door and walked down the steps to her car.

The snow was falling lightly as Harleen watched Rose drive her car down the driveway and through the gate of the fenced-in property. She stood against the door with her face close to the glass, the warm air from her nose fogging up her view outside.

“Harleen,” Frost said from behind. “I’m sorry.”

Harleen turned and smiled at Frost, her eyes still full of tears and her cheeks bright pink. “I know,” she said as she sniffed and walked toward him in the wide entranceway. He opened his arms and held her in a warm embrace. It felt like she was hugging a teddy bear.

“I think I need some time alone with J,” she said as she looked up at the bearded man.

Frost shook his head as he watched Harleen head toward Joker’s office and enter. He pulled out his phone and opened his messages.

 _What r u doing tonight?_ The text from Vanessa asked.

 _I was thinking... there’s this girl I like and I’m wondering if she would like to go out to eat somewhere,_ he responded. He waited a mere ten seconds before her response popped up.

 _Heck yeah!_ She said with a smiley face next to it.

_Okay, I’ll be there around 5 to pick u you. Sound good?_

_I love it,_ Vanessa replied as Frost smiled and headed downstairs.

He was excited to finally have a date—a real date—and with a woman he really wanted to spend time with. He practically skipped as he headed to his office downstairs where he gathered his things, sent Joker a message that he was leaving, and left out the back.

*****

Harleen pushed on the hidden panel to Joker’s inner office and found him sitting in the center of the couch, his elbows on his knees and his fingers spanning across his forehead to rub his temples on either side. She closed the panel behind her and turned around to stare at the man sitting in front of her.

“Come here,” he commanded firmly without moving or looking at her.

Harleen carefully walked toward him and sat down on the couch next to him as she looked at the side of his head, half-hidden by his hand. His eyes were closed and he was deep in thought. Harleen thought about the young boy in the picture—how he was so happy, how he had so much potential.

“J...” Harleen said in a soft tone. “J, that woman... she...” She couldn’t quite find the words that she wanted to say. She wanted to tell him that she knew she was his aunt—that she told her things about his childhood that he probably didn’t remember himself. Every little piece of information she learned about Joker and his past was like a precious gem to preserve.

“She said that she killed her husband,” Joker interrupted Harleen’s thoughts. “She didn’t kill her husband, _I_ did.”

Harleen continued to stare at the side of his face as a perplexed look fell across her own. “What do you mean _you_ killed him? You were, what, eight years old at the time?”

“Yes,” Joker said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“So... you killed your uncle... and your Aunt Rose took responsibility for it?” Harleen was befuddled by the statement. “What an incredible woman...”

“I know...” Joker responded with a sad lilt to his words.

“You know, she felt so guilty about leaving you at the school... She said she was literally paralyzed by the guilt...” Harleen explained.

“I know, I could hear the conversation,” he told her.

Harleen laughed internally and shook her head. “Of course you could hear the conversation... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, J.” She reached her hand out and put it on the tight muscle of his thigh. “I know you think you’re an emotionless robot or an unfeeling monster,” she said quietly, “but I know you’re not. And I’m sorry.”

He abruptly pulled away from Harleen’s tender squeeze as he stood up and walked over to a large cabinet in the back of the room. He opened it and retrieved an envelope along with an old photo album before sitting back down on the couch and placing the items in the space between them.

“Here,” he said curtly. “Ask me whatever you want.”

Harleen’s eyes widened as she reached for the old photo album and opened it up. It was full of pictures of Joker as a child—starting from when he was a baby in his loving parents’ arms to birthday parties, school portraits, family get-togethers, Christmas celebrations, and everything in between. The photos tugged at her heart, just as it always did when she thought about Joker’s past. It was so tragic. _Why does tragedy have to follow him everywhere?_

Finally, she came upon a photo of Jack with his father and a man who looked similar. He was holding a hat in his hand and wore a dark suit. He looked like a gangster with his half-smile and slivered eyes as he stared into the camera. He had sharp cheekbones and a well-defined jaw line—just like Joker—and his eyes were deep-set, making him appear slightly menacing. He was most certainly not a man you would want to mess with.

“Is this your uncle?” she asked as she turned the album to him.

“Yes,” Joker replied coldly, looking at the photo.

“How... how did it happen?” Harleen continued with her line of questioning. “It sounds like he deserved it.”

Joker stood up and walked to another, closer cabinet with glass doors and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. He knew Harleen was not a drinker, at least not as much as he was, and he poured himself a single shot. He downed the glass in one gulp without a single reaction before pouring himself a double and returning to the couch.

“I lived with my aunt and uncle for a short period of time,” Joker explained. “He used to make me do things that I didn’t want to do like go to poker games, hold his gun... He killed a man in front of me.”

“That must have been really hard for you to see at such a young age...” Harleen stated as she studied Joker’s sharp facial features.

“He was a real asshole... Maybe that’s where I get it from. I know I’m no angel and I don’t want to be... But there was something about that man. He did not deserve to live.” His words were bitter cold as they were delivered from his tight, thin lips.

“Was he hurting you when you killed him?”

Joker paused at the question and looked up at Harleen. “No,” he answered. “He was about to rape my Aunt Rose. He was using a knife to cut the skin on her stomach when he asked me to join him. I refused, I picked up his gun, and I shot him in the neck... He died on top of me as he bled out.

“Jesus, J,” Harleen murmured under her breath as she looked from his face to the image of his uncle. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I... I can’t even imagine.”

Harleen gathered the envelope and photo album and placed them on the end table next to her before moving closer to Joker on the couch. She cuddled up close to him and rested her head on his warm chest as she closed her eyes and held him tight.

Joker never quite understood why he cared so much about what Harleen thought. He was never apologetic to anyone else. He didn’t care if they thought he was a monster. But Harleen... Harleen was different. Harleen reminded him of a time before his transformation into the idea of The Joker. She reminded him of his humanity. He even liked it sometimes. He liked feeling like he was a real person around her, and he had grown comfortable showing her that he had vulnerabilities.

“J... I really need to tell you something...” Harleen said as she opened her eyes and sat up slightly to face him.

“What is it?” he asked, not knowing what to expect.

Harleen swallowed and took a deep breath. “You know how I told you that Nick said he was injecting me with a vector virus? That he was doing some... genetic experimentation?”

“Yes... and Dr. Evans found that it was nothing, just saline. There is nothing to worry about, kitten,” Joker said as he kissed her on the top of her head.

“Well... I know... but, um, I guess he probably didn’t have the ability to do so since he was just released from prison, but you know that he was smart...” Harleen’s voice trailed off and she took another deep breath. “He told me that he did a similar thing to you before you... before, you know... before Jack Napier died.”

“You’re saying... he injected me with a vector virus? To change my genetic makeup?” Joker asked, taking a swig from his glass.

“Yes... in fact, he was very adamant that the components in the... concoction he had made were what gave you the physical characteristics that you have today—the pale skin, the green hair, the lack of body hair...”

Joker was quiet for a while as he thought back to the months after Jessica’s death. Nick had insisted on injecting him with a drug that would help alleviate anxiety and depression. He had even helped Nick develop it on paper but never saw it through to production until the night of his death.

“I remember...” Joker started, “I remember that Nick was using me as a guinea pig for one of our drugs that we had created...”

“Was it called Smilex?”

Joker gave a puff of air from his nose at the mention of the name. “Yeah, Smilex. It was supposed to ‘calm the crazy.’”

“Well, except that’s _not_ what he injected you with,” Harleen explained. “He said he had developed a vector virus using a bunch of different components... something about replacing alleles and how it was the forefront of science.” She watched Joker’s emotionless face as she continued. “He said this is what changed you physically... but falling into the vat changed your... changed your... brain chemistry. He said the trial run of Smilex at Arkham didn’t do very well...”

Joker was silent of a few moments. “Fucking Nick... I figured as much... I knew falling into the basin of chemicals wouldn’t do this, but that’s what I told people because I liked the story... Harleen,” he paused as he took another drink and swallowed, “it turns out that Nick and I are related.”

Her jaw dropped at the revelation.

“What do you mean?” she asked with a bewildered look on her face.

“Nick was actually my Uncle William’s son. In fact, he was William Nicholas Napier, Jr.—named after my uncle.”

“The man you killed? So, what happened? How did he end up with Dr. Edwards?”

“Nick’s mom—his real mom—left William and then gave Nick up for adoption. I guess he was quite a handful,” Joker said.

“Hm, yeah, I guess so,” Harleen concurred as she laid her head back on his chest and closed her eyes. She wrapped her free arm around his waist and pulled herself closer to him. “She called you Jackie... That makes me smile.”

“Jack is long gone, Harley. He’s gone and I replaced him.”

“I know,” she said, not wanting to argue—though she had certainly witnessed times when he still acted like Jack would have acted. While he always seemed to be brooding or overly happy, he was also loving, considerate... caring. He would make her breakfast and have it ready just as she woke up. He would hold her when he knew that she was having a bad day. He was so understanding of her needs. She smiled as she thought about his relationship with Jessica. Jessica was perfect for Jack, and _Harleen_ was perfect for _Joker_. This was a conclusion that Harleen felt good about making.

She slowly pulled her arm from behind his waist and reached for the glass in his hand, placing it on the end table beside him.

“Harls...” Joker growled as she sat up and swung her leg on the other side of his hip and pressed her pelvis into his.

“Shh,” she sighed onto his lips as she rolled her hips on his, feeling his cock growing harder as he pushed her mound against it. “I love you, Mr. Joker... I love _you_. I _know_ you... I never knew Jack. I think you’re more alike than you realize,” she continued, “but I know you’re not him...”

Joker opened his lips and kissed her as she continued to awaken his senses with her gorgeous body. “I know...” he responded.

Harleen pulled away from their kiss and leaned back, reaching for the button on his pants followed by his zipper. She could feel his hard cock behind the fabric of his boxers—a feeling that she loved—as she stroked her hand along its length. She stood up and unfastened her own button and zipper as he moved toward the edge of the seat. He grabbed both her slacks and her panties at the waist on either side of her hips and pulled them down to the floor, revealing her trimmed mound. He dropped his knees to the floor and leaned in, his hands gripping her behind as he pushed his warm tongue between her lower lips causing her to gasp loudly.

Blood rushed throughout her body as he pushed his tongue in and out from between her folds, causing an incredible ache to build between her legs. He was so good with his tongue and knew exactly what drove her wild.

Though he so badly wanted to push himself inside of her, he took his time and didn’t rush, especially as Harleen’s moans began to grow louder and more frequent.

“Oh, J...” she exhaled and panted.

She grabbed the top of his head with her hands and held it tight as her orgasm traveled through her body, from her center down to her toes and up to her fingertips. She would have fallen over had he not been holding onto her with such a firm embrace.

Joker stood up and kissed Harleen, his pants falling to the floor as her warm juices on his tongue invaded her mouth. “You taste so good,” he said as he continued to kiss her. “I’ve missed you, Harleen.”

She loved it when he used her nickname _Harley_ or _Harls_ , but she almost loved it more when he used her full name because she knew how serious he was when said it. They kissed deeply as they held each other, both now with their pants at their ankles, both wanting nothing more than to please each other. She pulled the waistline of his boxers down around his erect cock and then to the floor before pulling her sweater over her head and tossing it on the back of the couch followed soon thereafter by her bra.

“Sit down,” she told him as she gave him a little push against his chest.

Joker smiled and sat down as Harleen stepped out of her clothing. She placed her knees on either side of his body and straddled him, grabbing his cock and placing it at her wet entrance. Without any further production, she pushed herself against his throbbing shaft and allowed him to enter her in one quick motion. His reaction was that of pure bliss.

“Oh...” he rasped as the sound gurgled out of his mouth.

Harleen loved the fact that even though he was a “monster” who was “barely human,” he certainly reacted in a way that she would expect a man to react when entering her. She rocked against him as he pushed into her, pausing their kisses to breathe deeply.

“You are so warm and wet... I love you Harleen,” he said in a low voice as his hands squeezed and rubbed the silky skin of her breasts. He put his face in her cleavage and breathed deeply as he kissed her all over, his mouth soon finding a firm nipple.

His amazing mouth on her breast was too much for Harleen to take as she moaned louder than before, pushing her hips onto his with force and causing him to move deeper inside of her. She moaned and screamed his name as she writhed in pleasure on his lap with him being unable to hold back from his own release. He came as soon as he felt her body tense as she cried out with a sharp exhale. He held her in place on his lap as they came down from their mutual high, their skin both awash in the afterglow of sex.

“I love you, Harleen,” he quietly whispered in her ear.

Harleen smiled as she squeezed him harder—her legs and arms wrapped around his body. “I know...” she responded as she held herself tightly against him. “I love you, too...”

*****


	32. Chapter 32

“It’s Christmas Eve, JT,” a feminine voice spoke from behind Officer Todd. “And your shift ends in five minutes. What are you still doing here?” The foot belonging to the voice kicked the bottom of his rolling chair, causing him to move.

“I know, Allie... I know,” Todd said as he spun around to the beautiful woman he had grown close to over the past several months. “I’ll get out of here ASAP, I swear.”

“Well, you better,” she said with a flirtatious smile, trying not to call too much attention to herself. She knew a relationship with a fellow officer was disallowed per department policy, but all she wanted to do was throw herself onto his lap and kiss his lips.

Todd was tall and strong, but not overly bulky and muscular—just the way she liked it. He was a fast runner and could catch up with any perp on foot practically without breaking a sweat. She knew he must be tense—always taking extra patrols and filling in after his shift had ended—and she wanted to be the one to release his tension.

“What are your plans tonight?”

“Well, I was going to visit my family for a drink... but I might be persuaded to do something else, maybe,” Todd responded with a flirtatious smile of his own followed by a nervous chuckle. He had been wanting to ask Allie out for months but could never get up the courage to do so. “I’ll be seeing them tomorrow for our famous Todd Christmas dinner, so... I think I can get away with canceling plans for tonight.”

“Hm... And if you canceled your plans, what would you do instead?” Allie asked, her deep brown eyes sparkling in the station light. Their colleagues in the 19th Precinct were abuzz with police activity and a bit of the Christmas spirit filled the air. No one was paying attention to the pair making plans for a date.

“Well, I was thinking of maybe taking a beautiful woman out for dinner. There’s a really nice Italian restaurant near Columbus Circle that I’ve been wanting to take her to for a while now,” he admitted with a coy look on his face.

“Oh, is that so?” Allie asked, not able to help the huge smile forming across her face. “Should this woman meet you there?”

“Yeah, maybe she should meet me at the globe in Columbus Circle,” he said with chuckle. “How does eight o’clock sound? That will give her, what, two hours?”

“It sounds perfect... I’ll be sure to pass that information along to her,” Allie replied, unable to stop smiling. “Oh, and by the way, this woman told me that she hid a Christmas present somewhere in your desk. You should look for it.” She winked at Todd and walked away, his eyes following the curve of her behind as she left the room.

Jason Todd was a man of integrity and virtue, quickly shaking himself from his gaze and pulling his attention back to his desk to look for the gift that Allie had left for him. He was fairly organized and had a place for everything on his desk—his cup of pens, his stapler, his tray of new assignments, his tray of folders to follow up on. If there were something out of place, he would see it. He grabbed all of his folders from his "to do" tray and searched through them one-by-one. Just as he found a hidden envelope with the name _JT_ on it, a CD case fell from the folders and onto his desk.

“What the hell?” he said out loud as he looked at the CD. On the case was a post-it note that said _W 48 – Gotham Parking Garage 10/28 - 10/29._ He stared at the CD for a moment and shook his head.

“Why would someone put this in my tray and not my department mailbox...” he muttered to himself in annoyance. He had long given up on following up on that lead.

He turned his attention back to the envelope from Allie and opened it. Inside was a ticket for a New Year’s Eve fireworks cruise in the harbor with a note that said: _I have the other half of this ticket—want to come with me? XO, Allie._

Todd chuckled to himself and thought about their conversation over the Fourth of July holiday and how he had told her that he had never seen fireworks from the water in all of his years of living in Gotham. He tapped the ticket on the desk and smiled, putting it back into the envelope and then inside the breast pocket of his uniform.

Just as he was preparing to log off of his computer for the evening, he looked at the CD sitting next to his mouse pad.

 _Oh, all right,_ he thought to himself as he opened the case and placed the CD into the laptop. He proceeded to open the video file as he searched his folders for the notes he had kept on the incident from late October. He quickly fast-forwarded the footage from six in the evening on the 28 th to six in the morning on the 29th and saw something very interesting.

It was _two_ women—not one—who were seated in the Mercedes as they passed through the gate of the parking garage. One woman was clearly Vanessa Crane in the passenger seat and the other woman... His notes said her name was “Marlene McIntosh.” _But why lie about this woman being in her car? And why was the woman driving the car if it wasn’t hers? Who is she and why was Vanessa protecting her?_

Todd had goals of taking the detective’s exam, as he was often encouraged to do by his sergeant because of his keen skills in following every lead. He searched through his notes from the night and saw the unusual name Harleen, not Marlene.

 _Harleen... Harleen... Why do I know this name?_ He asked himself. He opened his web browser and simply searched _Harleen Gotham City_ to see what popped up.

The first of many similar entries in the search was _Arkham Doctor Kidnapped By Joker_ along with _Harleen Quinzel Quiet On Her Time With Joker_ and _Arkham Asylum Sued By Kidnapped Doctor_.

“Jesus,” Todd said aloud under his breath. _Was Vanessa connected to Harleen in some way? If so, why was she protecting her? Did she lie and say her friend’s name was Marlene?_

He continued to look through his notes from the night: _10/29/17, 2 a.m., Vanessa Crane, Mercedes, NY plate, 140 W 48 th, Joseph Carr Wildlife Sanctuary, Rye, Harleen, GCH._

Suddenly, he paused and stared at his notes, completely blocking the busy world around him.

 _Joseph Carr... Joseph Carr... Joe Carr... Joker... Joker?_ Todd put his hand to his forehead and pushed back his short ash blonde hair. _Did Harleen Quinzel refuse to talk about the Joker... because she... colluded with him?_ He pondered the thought as he sat somewhat stunned in his chair. He recalled what his partner Blake had told him after their visit. There were medical journals addressed to “HQ” at the sanctuary, which they both had assumed stood for “headquarters.”

 _What if it stood for Harleen Quinzel?_ The thought was almost too ridiculous. _Why in the world would a doctor willingly leave with a patient—someone as dangerous as The Joker—on the day he broke out of prison? Did she... help him break free?_ The preposterous questions floated around in his mind and yet with each passing moment they became less and less ridiculous and more and more possible.

At that moment, he knew that he needed to make a visit to the Sanctuary again. The assignment was long closed, however, and he was not allowed to do detective work. Though he was encouraged to take the exam as soon as he had enough time in on the job, which was soon anyway, he still wasn’t able to do work outside of the scope of his job. The union would have him under disciplinary review if he did. And the detectives simply wouldn’t have enough time to follow up on it themselves.

He made an executive decision: He had to make the trip to Rye. He could make the trip and be back in time to meet Allie at eight if he hurried. He removed the CD from his computer and logged off, carefully placing the CD case into the file with the rest of his notes and back into his drawer.

“Hey, JT, aren’t you done yet? It’s fifteen after,” his partner Blake said as he approached him.

“Oh, uh, yeah, JB. I’m just, um, gathering a few last minute things,” Todd said with a bit of a nervous stammer.

“What’s going on?” Blake asked, noticing the difference in Todd’s usually unflappable demeanor.

“Oh, uh, well,” Todd continued to stammer. He pulled out the envelope from his jacket. “Allie... uh, Allie asked me out,” he said with a smirk as he showed him the ticket for the harbor cruise.

“Dude! That’s awesome, but you gotta keep that on the DL... One of you would be transferred the moment they find out,” Blake said quietly, referring to the police department’s policy barring fraternization—especially of a sexual nature—with co-workers.

“Yeah, I know, I know...” Todd replied. “I’m actually taking her out to dinner at eight, so...”

Blake’s mouth fell open in surprise. “You lucky dog, you... Listen, I hope you have an awesome dinner. Are you off tomorrow?”

“You bet. I’m actually off tomorrow and the next day, so I will see your sorry ass here on Wednesday,” Todd said with a big smile.

“All right, be careful. Don’t get into any trouble!” Blake said as he playfully smacked Todd on the shoulder and walked away.

“Can’t promise that!” Todd said as he collected the rest of his things to take on his hopefully quick trip upstate. He had thought about inviting Blake along with him, but would hate to put him in harm’s way and potentially be brought up on disciplinary charges. This was a trip he would have to make on his own.

*****

“Bye, Jonny,” Harleen called to Frost as he headed out the rear door of the big mansion to the parking garage. “Tell Van I said hello! You’re getting to spend more time with her than I do nowadays...” She smiled at Frost, who chuckled as he walked out the door.

The elevator made a quiet ding as it stopped in the basement, opening its doors for Joker to emerge. He looked gorgeous in a black suit with a pressed white shirt and black tie. He wore no jewelry and had minimal make-up while his green hair was perfectly slicked back. Harleen loved his many looks from his chest-bearing, jewelry-wearing look at the club to his laid-back, boxers-only look at home.

“You look gorgeous,” he said as his eyes followed every curve of her womanly body.

She wore a red satin cocktail dress with spaghetti straps and a plunging neckline, showing off her ample cleavage. He breathed in slowly and exhaled hard as he stared at her. “I’m not sure if we’ll be able to make it through dinner,” he said as he approached her and put his arm around her waist. “I’m not sure if we’ll make it out of the house...”

“J...” Harleen sighed as he began to kiss her neck from her ear down to her collarbone, sending shivers throughout her entire body. “We’re going to miss our reservation...”

“C’mon, doll... You know by now that there’s no such thing as a reservation in my world. Restaurants shut down when I want them to. Besides, we have the whole restaurant reserved just for us... for the whole night.”

“Even on Christmas Eve?” Harleen asked with a bashful smile.

“Even on Christmas Eve,” Joker responded factually as he leaned in to kiss her lips. “C’mere... I wanna show you something.” Joker pulled her into Frost’s office. “Have you ever been in here?”

“Well, yeah, of course, I’ve been in Frost’s office,” Harleen said as she stepped into his big office full of computers on a long, fancy desk with dozens of monitors on the walls.

“No, no, no...” he replied, “I mean, have you ever been back here?” He grabbed Harleen by the hand and walked around the left side of his desk down a hallway that she had never paid attention to before. The pair followed the hallway which opened up to a huge bedroom.

“Frost has his own bedroom down here? Oh my god, this explains so much!” Harleen laughed as she stepped into the beautiful room. The walls were a dark gray and the floor was a pretty brown hardwood with a gray and blue area rug beneath the bed. The inset lighting in the ceiling gave the room a soft glow as a few mirrors tastefully placed on the walls made the room feel even larger.

As Harleen stood in the middle of the floor and admired Frost’s ability to decorate, Joker quickly pulled the hidden zipper down her back and removed the straps from her shoulders, allowing the dress to fall freely to the floor.

“J!” Harleen protested as her clothing fell from her body. She was left wearing a red strapless bra and matching panties as well as glittering silver stiletto heels.

“I told you that I wouldn’t be able to wait,” he said as he licked his lips and he stepped back, taking in the image of her figure. He never tired of looking at the curves of her body and was usually immediately aroused just by holding her—not that she ever complained.

Harleen reached out for his tie and pulled him to her for a deep kiss. “This is why I love you in ties... It’s like a leash that I can tug on and make you come to me.”

“You can tug on me anytime and make me cum,” Joker said with a snort as he pulled away from the kiss.

“I always want to make you cum,” Harleen responded in a soft voice as she removed his tie and began to work on the buttons of his shirt.

Listening to her words sent a tingle through his body, causing him to stiffen even more than he already was. He couldn’t explain why, but he just wanted to spend the rest of his life making love to this woman—the woman who infested his every thought and turned him on without reprieve.

Both undressed, Harleen pushed him backward to the bed. “I wanna be on top,” she said as she stepped out of her heels.

“Leave them on...” Joker said, his electric blue eyes full of lust.

“You don’t think Frost will mind?” she asked. “I mean other than us being in his bed...”

Joker smiled wickedly as he sat on the bed and moved toward the center, inviting Harleen with an outstretched hand. He was completely aroused and ready as she straddled his body and positioned him between her legs.

She pushed him in as deep as she could and began to slide her body up and down his as she pulled his cock in and out of her. She caught sight of the two of them in a big mirror—something Joker didn’t have very many of in their bedroom—and was immediately turned on at the sight of Joker lying beneath her as she slowly rocked back and forth on his hips. Though the angle was different, she was reminded of one of the videos Nick had shown her of Jessica sitting on top of Jack, making love to him in the warm breeze of their apartment with a window open.

She looked down at the man below her, his strong arms holding her knees in place, his piercing eyes traveling all over her body, his forehead beginning to glisten in sweat, and the blood pumping in the veins of his neck. She loved him with all of her heart and she was excited to spend the rest of her life with him. No matter what she would end up doing with herself—whether she decided to work as a therapist part-time for his Aunt Rose or whether she spent time traveling the world—she didn’t care as long as she had him by her side.

“J...” she said as she continued to grind against his body in a slow rhythm. “I have something to tell you.”

Joker was attempting to hold back his loud sighs of breath as she spoke. “What... What... is it?” he asked, his words now punctuated by his now breathy exhales.

“J...” Harleen stated, “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re what?” Joker asked incredulously as he sat up on his elbows, a look of happy surprise washing over his face.

“I’m pregnant, J. I just found out today... You’re going to be a father,” she said as she sat stationary on top of his pelvis, his body unable to move due to her announcement.

He stared into her eyes. “You’re pregnant? We’re going to have a baby?” he asked, as if didn’t understand what she had told him.

“We are going to have a baby, J,” Harleen reiterated as she cupped her hands around his face.

Joker smiled, revealing his silver teeth as he pulled a hand from its place on her hip to her abdomen and caressed it. He would do anything and everything to protect their child. He would make sure that he had a shot of having a family again.

“Oh, Harley...” he sighed as he pulled her in for a kiss and began to push her pelvis against his again.

She pushed him back down onto the bed and continued to work her body on his in a faster rhythm. Her thoughts of him being a father were arousing on so many levels. There was a point at which he had thought he was too much of a monster—too far transformed—to even be able to have children. But here they were. She thought of how amazing he would be with a child and how a child might help him grapple with his emotions and his personal history. She thought of how a child would connect them together forever, no matter what happened.

Leaning down to lie on his chest, she slowed her rhythm, carefully pulling him out and pushing him quickly back in—each movement causing a moan to escape both of their mouths. In and out, she continued until she felt the lovely ache build around him as he pushed inside of her. She thought of how much she loved feeling him inside of her and how much pleasure it gave him. She lived for his pleasure. The thought spun in her mind until she felt the rush of her release as she ground her hips down as hard upon his as she could.

Joker could never hold back when it was clear that Harleen was ready. He was unbelievably aroused by her sounds—the way she moaned deep in her throat to the way she gasped for air as she reached her climax. She was so good at giving him pleasure and she knew just what he liked. She knew how to look at him and smile, which would send all of his blood to his lower half and make him forget about what he was doing or thinking. He never wanted this moment to end as the woman he loved opened her mouth in ecstasy above him, closing her eyes and crying out in sweet rapture. When he was enveloped in her warmth—his most favorite place to be—he couldn’t withstand the need to release.

He thought of his time exactly one year ago when he was in Arkham Asylum. He had fantasized incessantly about his doctor and then finally made his fantasies come to fruition on the floor in the basement of the prison just before breaking free. One year ago. As her patient, he was so reluctant to reveal his true story—his true past—and instead learned so much about her. He had fallen madly in love with her just as much as she did with him. One year ago.

The orgasm traveled through his body like an electrical shock from an ECT machine. But she was real, everything was real. They were together. She was living with him. And they were going to have a child together. Joker couldn’t have been happier—something he never thought he would feel again.

He pulled her down to lie on top of his pale, sweaty body as they both continued to breathe heavily. He was finally content.

*****


	33. Chapter 33

“Hey, did you know that he has a kitchen, a living room, _and_ a bathroom with a Jacuzzi tub back here?” Harleen called to Joker as she finished up in the restroom and pulled the zipper most of the way up her dress.

Joker gave a short laugh. “No, I don’t even know half the rooms in this house... but leave it to Frost to hide his extravagant little apartment from me.”

“Will you zip me up, puddin’?” Harleen asked as she walked toward Joker who was finishing up his tie in the full length mirror. “God, you look so good,” she remarked as she watched him stretch his neck up and pull the end of his tie through the knot.

“It’s all for you, doll... We can stay here instead,” he said provocatively as he zipped up her dress and smacked her lightly on the behind.

“Hm... We could... But aren’t you hungry?” she asked as she turned around to face her future husband and father of her child.

“For you? Always,” he said with a silver grin.

“No...” Harleen responded playfully. “I mean... to eat, silly. I’ve been looking forward to this all day. Where are you taking me anyway?”

“It’s a surprise,” Joker said. “I can’t give it away.”

“All right,” Harleen pouted as she grabbed his solid black cane with silver embellishments from the wall and handed it to him.

“Oh, this is actually Frost’s cane—the one I gave him after he was shot earlier this year,” Joker said as he examined the jeweled, silver skull at the top. “I guess he doesn’t need it too much these days.”

“Must be a lucky cane,” she said.

“I think that the new girlfriend helps...” Joker said with a smirk as he moved his eyes from the cane to Harleen and winked.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I think they make a good couple,” Harleen stated with a happy smile.

“I suppose they do...” Joker agreed. He paused for a moment, leading Harleen down the hallway to Frost’s office. “You never told me how you met her anyway.”

“Oh, Vanessa?” Harleen asked. “Well, we were sophomores in college and we happened to sit next to each other in a writing class. We both ended up bonding over the fact that... that our dads had died. She told me her dad was some big doctor and he was murdered by a patient at a facility that he ran for homeless people... It was really tragic... The police basically refused to give them any information about what happened.”

Joker cleared his throat and furrowed the muscles where his eyebrows would be. “Yes, sounds very tragic...”

“J! Stop it!” Harleen almost laughed as she turned and pretended to slap his shoulder. “I know you don’t care about that kind of stuff, so you don’t have to pretend... Anyway, she was fascinated with the fact that I wanted to go down that path too... You know, studying mental health. And we’ve been friends ever since.”

“Well, hopefully Frost doesn’t fuck _that_ up,” Joker said as he held the cane and led Harleen out of Frost’s office and into the grand foyer of the basement. She reached for her black shawl hanging in a nearby closet and wrapped it around her in preparation for the cold weather outside.

As they had walked through Frost’s office, they didn’t notice the flashing light on his monitors indicating that the silent alarm on the outside perimeter had been tripped. A man had scaled the outer fence and could be seen making his way to the back of the giant, castle-like home...

The luxury of the mansion never failed to astonish Harleen as she passed through the basement to the rear door. Every surface was covered in a warm beige and chocolate-colored marble with deep burgundy and purple accents throughout. There were pillars and chandeliers leading out to a swinging door, which opened up to a vestibule and the outer doors.

“Hey,” Joker called out to Harleen in a low voice as she walked one step ahead of him to the doors.

“What?” she asked as she stopped in her tracks, spinning around to look at him.

He sighed heavily and gave her an electrifying stare—the kind that she remembered him giving when they sat across from each other during their sessions at Arkham. He stepped close to her body, his chest on hers as he looked down into her eyes. He snaked a strong hand around the satin fabric of her waist and pulled her into him.

“I love you,” he said, his clear blue eyes gazing into hers. He meant every single word.

A smile formed on Harleen’s lips. She never thought she could be so happy. She had her whole life ahead of her with this man and she couldn’t wait to spend all of her time with him.

“I love you more,” she responded as she tilted her head upward, her lips parting as they met his. She pulled away as she sucked lightly on his lower lip, releasing it with a gentle smack.

“We could spend the rest of the night here instead,” he quietly propositioned as his hands slowly moved up her waist to her sides, with one sneaking around to press against her breast.

Harleen thought for barely a moment as she knew they had been looking forward to a fancy dinner—their first since she had been rescued. She wanted to stay home with him, but she also wanted to get out of the house.

“Let’s go out... and when we come home... I’m all yours,” she said seductively as she pushed her hand up his abdomen to his chest. She could feel his large pectoral muscles beneath the fabric of his suit. He was tall and strong and slender... he was perfect. She kissed him on his sharp jaw line and down to his chin where she pulled away and gave him one final kiss on his lips. It was a soft, sensuous kiss—the kind of kiss you wouldn’t expect a man like Joker to give. And yet here he was, totally at the mercy of the woman before him.

The phone in Joker’s inside breast pocket began to buzz as he held Harleen in a firm embrace against his chest, his lips glued to hers.

“You’re buzzing, J,” Harleen said into his warm mouth as they continued their kiss.

“It’s probably just Frost,” he responded, not breaking away from her lips.

“You better... mmm... answer it,” she replied between breaths before reluctantly pulling her lips from his. She momentarily pondered his offer to stay home and enjoy his company in their bed until the morning light. _Maybe even in Frost’s bed_ , she giggled to herself.

“What?” Joker said in a sharp tone, annoyed at the fact that Frost’s phone call had interrupted his kiss with Harleen.

“J, hey, I just got a notification that the silent alarm has been tripped for the perimeter,” Frost said. “It might be nothing—maybe a deer again or something—but you might wanna check it out... Are you still home?”

“Yeah...” Joker responded as he made the short walk back into Frost’s office and leaned the cane against the desk. “Shit... SHIT!” Joker exclaimed into the phone as he looked at the blinking monitor.

“What is it? J?” Frost asked with worry in his voice on the other end of the phone.

“It’s the police... or... it looks like one cop,” Joker explained as he gritted his teeth and growled. “It’s one of the fucking officers who paid us a visit last month. The tall one who spoke with you while the other one nosed around my office. He’s in the parking garage...” he said as he looked at the camera feeds on the other monitors, “and I see his car parked down the drive.”

“Is his partner with him?” Frost asked as he made a slight commotion on his end. He was having a lovely dinner with Vanessa with the promise of so much more afterward, but he knew that his friend was in trouble. He asked for the check as Vanessa finished off her glass of wine.

“No... It doesn’t look like it,” Joker said as he studied the images on the monitors with a worried Harleen at his side. “He’s trying to get in the door.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Frost said with a sense of urgency as he hung up.

Without hesitation, Joker turned to the wall behind Frost’s desk and pushed on a panel, which sprung open to reveal a cache of military weapons. Harleen tried not to be surprised at the fact that Joker so often had an arsenal virtually at his fingertips in every room of his mansion and his club. He had chosen not to wear his holster that night for some reason—an error he would never make again as he envisioned his potential death at the hands of this ambitious police officer. Removing his suit jacket and throwing it onto Frost’s desk, he rolled up his sleeves and grabbed a long, black weapon from the wall. He found a second cartridge for the gun along with a grenade and stuffed them into his pockets before turning toward Harleen.

“Listen, I need you to stay here. Right here,” he told her with calmness in his voice. “Take this.” He grabbed another, smaller gun from the wall and handed it to her. It was similar to the gun that she smuggled into Arkham for him exactly one year ago. It had been one year since he gained his freedom and it was all because of Harleen. “I’m going to take care of him, okay? You... you stay safe.” He paused and opened his mouth as he sighed heavily. “Keep my baby safe.”

At that moment, they heard a loud banging on the outside door, and they both turned their heads to the monitors to see that the man outside was trying to kick it in. Joker immediately jumped into action as he rushed out of Frost’s office and into the huge basement hallway. He ran directly toward the sounds of danger with only one thing on his mind: He must protect Harleen and the baby. He pressed his thumb to the biometric scanner, which allowed him to pull open the inner set of doors as the man continued with his attempts to kick the outer doors in. Joker knew there would be no way that the man could break through. His mansion was solid and secure.

“Be careful, J!” Harleen screamed as she peeked out of Frost’s office. Fear pumped through her body as she began to panic, worried that Joker was walking into certain death. She watched the live feed on the monitor as Joker entered the vestibule and pressed his thumb on the scanner for the outer doors. “He’s right in front of you!” she yelled to him as he slowly reached for the door handle.

Taking Harleen’s information under consideration, he decided to reach for the door on the right. In one quick movement, he pulled the pin on his grenade, opened the door, and threw the small object into the garage. He then ripped open the door on his left and began to fire with abandon into the open space before him as he counted down four seconds.

_Four... three... two... one..._

The explosion rocked the foundation of the stately home, the force causing the doors to blow inward. The energy from the detonation pushed Joker onto his back as the cold wind whipped through the gaping hole in the side of his home. He fired his gun again as he heard the man cough just outside the door, the dust from the explosion settling around him and creating an opaque fog through which neither could see.

“Give yourself up, Joker!” Officer Todd yelled to him as he rolled onto his side and propped himself up with an elbow after Joker’s firing ended. The side of his face was charred from the explosion and he could smell the burning of his clothing. “I know it’s you!”

Todd found the energy to roll to the other side of the now open doorway as Joker began firing his weapon through the curtain of dust, the powerful bullets punching straight through the bricks of the walls and the bodies of the vehicles outside. The determined officer lifted the gun in his hands as he laid on his side and shot four times in quick succession through the cloud. Each pull of the trigger created an unforgettably brilliant flash that looked like lighting as the bullets exited the barrel in slow motion. _Bang... Bang... Bang... Bang..._

Todd fell to the ground as a loud, pained noise escaped his mouth. Something hot struck him in the collarbone and he was on fire. He closed his eyes and his world went dark.

*****

“ _J! Oh god, J!_ ” Harleen yelled seconds after the firing had ended. She did her best to watch the shoot-out on the screen, but the dust made it impossible to see. She saw bright bursts of light from each one of their guns, with four shots coming from the man outside and a handful more coming from Joker before stopping altogether. “ _J!_ ” she yelled again.

Joker couldn’t hear a word she said—the ringing was so loud in his ears. He coughed while the dust continued to settle around him as he reached for his shoulder—the same shoulder he had been shot in not even one year ago by a traitor within his crew.

“ _Fuck!_ ” he yelled out, not able to hear his own words.

“ _J!_ ” Harleen yelled. _He’s all right!_ She screamed in her head, her heart jumping for joy as she stepped out into the hallway and watched the cloud of dust roll in.

Joker stood up slowly and clutched his shoulder not knowing how deep the wound was. He slowly and shakily stood up as he let go of his arm and trained his gun on a shape that looked like a man lying on the ground.

“Harley!” he yelled. “Stay there!” Joker walked slowly out of the hole in the wall where his doors used to be and approached the man who began to groan. “I will put a bullet in your skull if you make one fucking move, asshole,” Joker threatened with a deep roar as he walked closer. The man did not make a move.

Joker grabbed the man’s body and rolled him over onto his front. Taking the handcuffs from his belt, he angrily latched the officer’s wrists together. Joker seethed as he looked at the man, the dust now clearing around him. This man—this lowly _no one_ —could have destroyed everything. He could have killed him—or worse, he could have killed Harleen and their baby. Joker made a promise to himself then and there that he would do anything and everything to protect Harleen and his child. He wasn’t able to protect Jessica and their son, but he would protect Harleen and their child. He would redeem himself of his foolish mistakes of the past.

Grabbing the handcuffs with his good arm, Joker stood and began to drag the man face-down through the dust and debris as he made his way into the opulent hallway of the basement’s foyer. The blood from the man’s wound poured out onto the floor, creating a long crimson river as it was carried along by the fabric of his clothing from the asphalt of the parking garage to the marble tile of the mansion.

“Harleen!” Joker barked. “Bring me Frost’s chair!”

Harleen grabbed the expensive black office chair from behind the desk and wheeled it out to Joker who was standing in the middle of the hallway. He was covered in filth—his once crisp white shirt now a dirty gray—and his entire shirt sleeve was stained bright red.

“ _Jesus Christ, J!_ ” Harleen screamed at the man before her. “ _You’re bleeding!_ ”

Suddenly, images of Joker dying in her arms flashed through her mind. He had been so close to death with his brash decision to move head-on into danger—without a bulletproof vest, at that. She could have lost him. She could be holding his dead body right now, rocking him back and forth, crying uncontrollably as the light left his eyes. She thought of all of the pain that she had been through from the death of her father to killing two former co-workers at Arkham. She thought of all of the pain of Joker’s life and all of the loss that surrounded him. She couldn’t survive without him—especially now that she was pregnant with his child. She couldn’t imagine the pain and the terror that would consume her if he had died.

An anger boiled up from deep within her chest... anger not only for the policeman at death’s door hanging from Joker’s hand but also anger at Joker for being so utterly careless.

“ _Put him in the chair!_ ” she commanded to Joker forcefully as she pushed it out into the hallway. She returned to Frost’s arsenal and found exactly what she was looking for: duct tape.

Harleen walked out into the hallway and helped Joker situate the officer in the chair, pushing his limp head into the soft leather and looking at his face. He was young—maybe slightly younger than she was—with sandy blonde hair and tall cheekbones. The left side of his body was blackened from the explosion of the hand grenade and he had a bullet wound between his neck and shoulder, a direct hit to his collarbone. She peeled the tape from the roll and wrapped the man in Frost’s chair as Joker spun him around.

Joker walked around to face the man whose head languidly fell to the side and stared at him with Harleen at his side. Suddenly, the anger consumed her and she snapped as they turned to look at each other. Joker felt the harsh sting of her slap on his face, shocking his clear blue eyes open and causing his jaw to fall as he stepped away in surprise.

Harleen couldn’t control herself as the hot blood rushed through her. She cared so much about the man standing before her that she couldn’t bear to ever put up with his impetuousness again.

“Don’t you ever... _ever_... do that again!” she shrieked as Joker took another step backward. “ _You could have been killed!_ ”

“Har—” he began to say as she lifted a strong, feminine hand to point at his face.

“ _Don’t_!” she yelled again. If she weren’t so angry, she knew that she would be crying. She felt the rush of blood to her face and the sting of tears in her wet eyes as she looked at the man in front of her. “Take your shirt off.”

Joker dutifully unbuttoned his shirt as best as he could with an injured arm as he saw the woman before him transform into someone completely different. He was both flabbergasted and maddened at the fact that she had slapped him, but he began to understand. He _did_ rush into danger and he very well could have died at the hands of the police officer. After everything he had accomplished in his life—after all of the tragedies that he had overcome—he could have died just as he was ready to start living again. He bit his tongue and removed his shirt and tie, throwing them to the ground as Harleen approached his shoulder.

“It’s a flesh wound,” she informed him coldly. “The bullet passed through and is _probably_ embedded in the wall somewhere in the house. A bullet that could have hit me...” Harleen huffed and made it known that she was upset with Joker. She wasn’t going to let him get away with his brazen foolhardiness any longer—especially now that they were bringing a child into the world together. “You’ll be fine... We’ll get you patched up. Here,” she said, reaching back down for his white shirt, “put some pressure on it. I want to talk to... _Officer Todd_.”

Harleen stood in front of the man taped to the chair and slapped him across the face with far more force than she did with Joker. He groaned and blood dripped from his mouth.

“ _Excuse me_ , Officer Todd,” Harleen said in a voice dripping with derision. “I have some questions for you.”

Todd opened his eyes and attempted to lift his head as he focused on a beautiful woman wearing a red satin cocktail dress. He knew immediately that it was Dr. Harleen Quinzel and that she must have colluded with the Joker for his escape from Arkham Asylum. Her story about her week-long kidnapping from Christmas to New Year’s Day must have been completely fabricated.

“ _Doctor_ Harleen Quinzel,” Todd finally spoke in a hoarse voice. “I guess you... took your oath to protect your patients... one step... further...” He wheezed each word, the pain in his shoulder clearly affecting him.

“Officer Todd, I am going to _kill_ you,” she said as Joker raised his eyebrow muscles in surprise, “but it’s your decision if you want the easy way out or the hard way out.”

Todd chuckled as he continued to spit up blood. He was just doing his job and now where was he? Bleeding profusely while tied to a chair in a lavish mansion owned by the Joker and his prison-psychologist-turned-lover, Harleen Quinzel. He should be on his way to his date with Allie at this moment. He should be thinking about kissing her at the globe in Columbus Circle. He should be enjoying an incredible Italian meal with the woman that he was falling in love with. Yet here he was...

Harleen turned around and picked up the gun that Joker dropped on the floor after dragging Todd into the hallway. She pulled it up and held it to his face, the barrel of the weapon pressing so hard into the crinkled skin of his forehead that it would leave a mark.

“Did anyone come with you tonight?” she asked with fire in her voice.

Todd opened his eyes and looked at the long gun buried in his forehead. He could not believe that a woman like Harleen Quinzel—a woman who held a doctorate in a social service field and who helped patients cope with tragedy for a living—would be standing in front of him threatening death with a machine gun between his eyes.

“No, I’m... alone,” he said as he coughed the dust from his lungs.

“Are you lying to me, Officer Todd? Because if you are, I will kill you and then I’ll find your family and I’ll kill them too... If you don’t believe me, just look at the man I have chosen to spend the rest of my life with... I want you to think _long_ and _hard_ about your fucking answer,” Harleen stated as she pushed the gun so hard against his head that his chair began to roll backward.

“No one knows... that I’m here... Not a single person...” he told her, now wishing that he _had_ invited Blake along with him or at least said something. He was alone and he was frightened that he may never be found.

“Good,” Harleen spat the word in his face as she pulled the gun away. “You know, you have really put us all in danger here. Needless danger...” She held the strap of the gun in her hand as it dangled above the gleaming marble tile floor before dropping it in a metallic clatter. Todd felt a slight amount of relief at the act. “I’ve been through a lot over the past year. A _lot,_ ” she said as she leaned into the man’s face. “ _I just fucking want to be left alone. Is that too much to ask?_ ”

Joker held his shirt to his injured arm as he watched his partner work her ways with the impotent man seated in front of her. He was at once mesmerized by the control she had taken over the situation and also a little concerned as he had never seen this side of her. He watched as she kicked the gun away and walked into Frost’s office, returning with the cane that he had left propped up against the desk. She was gorgeous as she walked back into the grand hallway, her satin dress hugging every curve, her beautiful breasts bouncing in the warm light with each step taken, her long legs made even longer by her sparkling silver stilettos. A cold December breeze blew through the hallway as she lifted the cane and touched Todd’s cheek with the silver skull at the top as if she were a powerful queen about to dole out her own course of justice.

“You... you could have ruined everything, _Officer J. Todd_ ,” she seethed, reading the gold nametag pinned to his chest.

“Please, I’ll... I’ll do whatever you want...” Todd pleaded with her. “I won’t... say a word.” He was in obvious pain and would need medical treatment soon if he were to survive.

Harleen thought for a moment about what she was doing. She was threatening to take the life of the man seated in front of her as Joker watched on in a quiet astonishment. She felt the anger bubbling up in the pit of her stomach and the tears began to sting her eyes again. She thought about all of the horrific things she had experienced in her life—the lot of them occurring in the past year after meeting Joker. She was absolutely terrified of ever losing him. She could _never_ lose him. They were going to be husband and wife. They were going to have a family. They were going to live the rest of their lives out in relative peace without interference from anyone. Her veins began to pulse with warmth as she felt the anger take over her body, providing the impetus for her next move.

“ _I don’t fucking believe you! Fuck you_!” she screamed at the police officer as she raised the cane and swung at his head, making contact with his ear.

Todd cried out as he attempted to escape from his seat. His hands were cuffed behind his back and he was wrapped in duct tape. There was no escape for the cornered officer.

“ _Stop! No!_ ” he yelled again, but Harleen was completely oblivious to his pleas.

She was fearless as she continued to pummel the man with the hard end of Frost’s cane. As if in a trance, she gripped it with all of her might and hit the man as hard as she could. With every blow, she thought of how everything in her life culminated to this moment—this moment that would make or break her. Tears streamed down her face and her mouth tightened as she dealt another blow. At this moment, this man represented everything that she could not control in her life... except now she finally had control.

She thought about her father dying when she was so young.

She thought about the tragedy of young Jack Napier.

She thought about Jack in the videos—so alive and happy.

She thought about Jessica’s rape and murder.

She thought about the terrible things Nick had done to her.

She thought about how she had finally found her true love.

She thought about their unborn child.

She thought about how needlessly close Joker had been to death...

With each persistent thought, she attacked the man with Frost’s bespoke cane. His face became a bloody pulp and he slowly stopped twitching with each subsequent and equally violent strike upon his body. His teeth were cracked and his nose was crushed. His cheekbones were broken and his eye sockets were sunken in. But it didn’t matter. Harleen kept smashing his face with the top of the cane, the metal skull making its mark on the man’s body. His blood covered her bare legs and arms.

She finally stopped, realizing that the man was dead. He was dead and Harleen had murdered him in cold blood. He literally could not defend himself. She dropped the cane and looked down at her trembling hands and then back up at the dead man’s face. She stared at his pale, broken face, the blood dripping out of his nose and mouth, down to his chest, and into his lap as the reality of what she had done began to take hold. Her mouth fell open as she backed away from his lifeless body. She walked toward the wall opposite from Joker as an incredible pressure started to build in her ears with her attempts to breathe. Leaning against the cold wall, made even colder by wintry breeze blowing in through the hole in the side of the house, she began to hyperventilate as tears streamed down her face.

Joker immediately ran to her and wrapped his strong arms around her body as she buried her face in her blood-covered hands. She had somehow summoned the strength within her to protect her family from a dangerous outsider—an act for which Joker would never judge her or fault her. He understood her pain and he felt he was particularly well-equipped to help her. Above all, he understood the anger. He felt the same anger after Jessica had died. He felt the same way when he killed both Dr. Crane and Nick, and he knew that Harleen had felt the same way about the officer. Her hand was forced to protect herself, to protect Joker, and to protect their unborn child.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Harleen sobbed on his bare chest. “I know... I know I didn’t have to kill him... but I was so _angry_.” She tried to speak as she inhaled with each tearful moan, her body shivering in shock.

“Sh... Sh... It’s okay,” Joker reassured her just as he had done when he saved her from Nick. He held her so tightly in his arms, the pink mark on his face from her hard slap still stinging his skin. He knew that he _was_ stupid to traipse directly into the path of danger as if he were invincible. He knew that he could have been killed. He knew that she could be holding his dead body at this very moment, weeping over his face and wondering where her life would take her.

“It’s okay...” he reiterated. “I’m so sorry, Harleen. I’m so sorry... I love you.” His words were soft and gentle as he spoke them quietly in her ear, her body still shaking in the cold, dusty breeze. “Come here,” he said as he carefully grabbed her hand and walked her through Frost’s office and into his bathroom.

He grabbed a washcloth and wet it with warm water, wiping the blood from her skin just as his Aunt Rose had done for him when he was little.

“It’s okay,” he said again. “You did what you had to do. You did it for me... You did it for _us_.”

Upon his last word, he placed a warm hand on her abdomen before pulling her in for another embrace as she continued to cry quietly.

“I love you,” he said again solemnly as he slowly dropped down to his knees as she leaned against the counter, his arms wrapping around her hips and pulling her close to him. He placed his head on her stomach and kissed her gently. “I promise I will do everything I can to protect you,” he told her as he looked up at her face, his eyes watering ever so slightly.

Harleen looked down at him with her taut lips and gave a sad smile. For a moment, she didn’t see Joker, she saw Jack. Beautiful, emotional, vulnerable Jack Napier. She saw the pain in Jack’s eyes at losing the love of his former life and their baby. She saw how close he was to losing everything again—and maybe even himself in the process. She pushed her fingers through his dirty green hair and thought about how much she loved this man—this monster—holding onto her for dear life.

“I love you so much,” she said aloud as her tears stopped flowing. He was right. She did what she had to do to protect them both and she would learn to live with it just like he did.

*****


	34. Chapter 34

“J? J!” Frost called in through the open wall of the basement as he very carefully stepped inside. His gun was drawn and he was on edge, ready to shoot the next thing that moved.

“We’re okay!” Joker yelled from deep inside the basement. Frost could feel his tension dissolve.

“What the fuck happened here? And why... why is there a dead cop taped to my chair? Oh man... I _liked_ that chair, too...” Frost muttered under his breath.

“I’ll buy you a new fucking chair,” Joker said as he swaggered out of Frost’s office shirtless with several stitches in his shoulder.

“What the fuck happened to you? What happened to the doors? What happened to our friend... Officer Todd?” Frost continued with his litany of questions.

“Shh... It’s been a bad night,” Joker began to speak with resignation in his voice. “I have a headache...”

“You’re fucking telling me!” Frost retorted as he proceeded to harangue his friend with a great fury. “Here I am sitting at dinner with Vanessa and my phone starts to blow up. Why the _fuck_ isn’t the home security app enabled on your phone, J? Did you disable it so you had more space for fucking mahjong or whatever the fuck new game you’re playing, huh?” Frost’s normal cool composure had cracked as the accusations began to roll of his tongue. “You don’t take this shit seriously! You could have been killed! Harleen could have been killed!”

“God damn it, Frost! Just shut the fuck up with your tirade for a fucking second,” Joker yelled as he paced back and forth. “Yes, I might have forgotten to enable to security app again...”

Frost rolled his eyes and huffed loudly.

“And... and...” Joker continued before pausing to stop and look at his friend and then to the floor. “I’m sorry,” he said to Frost’s surprise. “I’m really sorry. I’m sorry I’m such a fucking asshole. You’re right, I could have been killed tonight.” His words were contrite as he pointed to his left shoulder. “A few inches to the right and I’d have a bullet in my chest... I wasn’t on guard...”

“J...” Frost started to speak.

“Jonny, I’m sorry.... Harley... She’s pregnant,” Joker said as Frost’s jaw dropped. “And she killed the cop here to protect us all...” He brought his hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Frost stared at his friend for a moment as he processed the news of her pregnancy. “Well, I guess she’s eating _and_ killing for two now,” he said with his first smile of the night. “And she did a hell of a job,” Frost remarked as he looked at the dead man slumped forward in the chair. “We’ll need to get rid of the body and his car out front.”

“Have Miles work on it...” Joker said as he rubbed his chin. “He knows the best places to dump a body in the tri-state area.”

“What about the doorway?” Frost asked as he looked at the damage to the walls. “Grenade?”

Joker shook his head up and down as Frost smiled.

“Yeah,” Frost chuckled with a mischievous glint in his eye, “grenades always _were_ fun.”

“We’ll have to call the contractor... We’ll pay him extra since it’s Christmas,” Joker added. “Where’d Vanessa go? You didn’t bring her here, did you?”

“ _Hell no_... I put her in a cab and sent her home,” Frost responded with a disappointed look on his face.

“Good... good,” was all Joker could get out when he really just wanted to apologize for ruining Frost’s evening. He deliberated the thought for several long moments and then decided now was the time to start. “Jonny, I’m sorry for ruining your date with Vanessa. I know how much she means to you...”

Frost paused for a moment, surprised again at Joker’s apologetic words. “You know what? I appreciate that... and it’s okay,” Frost responded. “Once I get Miles in here, a guy or two for security, and a phone call in to the contractor, I am going to stop by her place. I know a great little shop where I can find some flowers at this time of night. Maybe I’ll just spend all night at her place...” he said with a sly smile.

Joker smiled and shook his head as Harleen called for him from deep within Frost’s office.

“Is she using... my shower?” Frost asked, his eyebrows raised.

“Maybe... Or it might be the Jacuzzi... and I’m about ready to join her,” Joker answered with a devilish smirk.

“Aw, Christ, J. No sex in the tub, _seriously_ ,” Frost said with a dissatisfied grumble. “And don’t fuck on my bed either. Come on! I _sleep_ there!”

Joker raised his hands unashamedly as he pressed his lips together before turning to walk away.

“Seriously, J... I’m gonna need a new chair... _and_ new bedsheets...” Frost could be heard complaining as Joker walked away.

*****

Joker returned to Frost’s large bedroom just after Harleen had slipped into the huge Jacuzzi tub. The jets were on low, providing a nice massage as she settled into a seat along the side. The tub was large enough to fit four people and Harleen could practically swim around in the water if she had wanted to.

She closed her eyes as she thought about what had just transpired. She would never get the look of the officer’s eyes out of her head, and she felt a crushing guilt knowing that she _could_ have saved him. But then she thought about Joker and their future family together... and things were easier to digest. She killed the man because she _had_ to, just like she had to kill Dr. Edwards and Winston. She would have killed Nick if she had been given a chance. She would have absolutely relished in murdering Nick.

 _Is that who I am now—a killer? A monster?_ She asked herself as she saw movement out in the hallway.

“It’s just me, kitten,” Joker said as he stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him, knowing that she would be on edge. “It’s just me... Let me step into the shower and get this dirt off first before I join you, okay?”

Harleen didn’t answer as she watched him undo his belt and remove his pants followed by his socks and his black boxers. _No, he doesn’t have hair ‘down there,’_ she thought to herself, remembering Nick’s intrusive line of questioning. He gave her a silver-toothed grin as he walked toward the shower, knowing full well that she was staring at every facet of the muscles flexing in his body. He finished his quick shower after removing the dirt from his hair and he exited the stall, his body dripping wet and glistening under the soft lights.

“Come here,” he said as he slid into the seat at the center of the tub and held his arms out to her. He pulled her onto his lap—both legs on the same side—and looked at her. She was vulnerable and emotional and strong and beautiful all rolled into one. “You’re the strongest person I know, Harleen. I know you know that.”

“I know...”

“I don’t want you to think about him... Push him out of your mind, okay?”

“But...” she responded, “I killed him in cold blood... I’m so sorry. I was so angry. And I didn’t mean to hit you...” She leaned in and kissed him gently on the cheek that she had slapped in her haste.

Joker smiled slightly as he completely understood her struggle. “I know... and it’s okay. You did what you had to do for _us_. You have no idea how... how much that means to me... to know that you would do something like that for _me_.” He reached his bad arm out of the water and tucked her wet hair behind her ears.

“Your arm... Your poor, unlucky arm...” she said as she touched his shoulder. “You were shot in it earlier this year... You have this terrible, long scar down the side... And now this.” She leaned in and kissed his stitches carefully. “It’s a good thing that I learned how to stitch from Dr. Evans when he worked on Frost...”

“Yeah,” Joker responded as his eyes searched hers.

“You never told me where you got this long scar on the side of your arm... When did that happen?”

Joker brought his lips into a tight scowl as he shook his head up and down. “That... that was a gift from my Uncle William,” he explained. “Just after I shot him and he fell on top of me, he pulled up his knife and gouged me pretty deep. It hurt like hell forever and I probably should have gone to a hospital... But now... now I understand that my aunt Rose was practically just a kid herself and had no idea what to do...”

“She... She’s a really good person, J,” Harleen said.

“I know... and so are you. I don’t even deserve you,” he whispered to her, his big blue eyes looking down at the water.

“J... I don’t deserve _you_... and yet you love me. We’re pretty fucked up, aren’t we?” she asked as she brought a wet hand to his face.

“Just a little bit,” he replied with a grin. “And I _do_ love you... no matter what... No matter how many times you slap my face or how many men you kill... I will love you forever...”

His words sent tingles through her body and she moved her face closer to his, finding his lips and kissing him softly. Even one year into their relationship, she still couldn’t quite believe the words that he would say to her. He was at heart a romantic—a poet. He may be a killer, but he was hers—and that’s all she had ever wanted.

“Harleen... I love you... I want to _make_ love to you...” Joker said quietly, pulling away from their kiss.

Harleen could feel him growing more and more rigid as he was pressed up against the side of her thigh. Her body flushed with a fiery warmth as she thought about him inside of her. She desired him in the same way and she began to question whether or not she was becoming desensitized to this lifestyle—murder for dinner and sex for dessert? Was she that callous that she could switch gears so easily?

“Is it wrong that I want it, too?” she asked Joker as she stared into his desperate eyes. “There’s a dead man out in the hallway... I killed him myself... but I can’t help but get turned on by you, J.”

A delicious passion danced in his eyes as his hands roamed her body, stopping to hold her buoyant breasts as they floated in the water. He leaned in and allowed his lips to find her nipple, which he very skillfully sucked and rolled his tongue around. He slowly reached down between her legs to find her soft bundle of nerves and caressed it with a gentle tease.

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting it... I seem to remember how much you wanted it when I was your patient, and I think you had an ethical obligation to _not_ want it...” he stated as he continued to touch her silky folds and suck on her breast.

“Mr. Joker, I would have let you fuck me on the table in an instant if I knew that you wanted it,” she said, her words dripping with sex as she employed the name she used to call him.

“Oh, Dr. Quinzel, if only you knew how often I sat across from you with a raging erection... my only thought being that of my face buried between your legs...” he responded with a deep and breathy voice. “I would have cum in my Arkham-issued sweatpants if you had gotten any closer to me.”

A small moan escaped Harleen’s mouth as she listened to his words, his lips locked on her breast creating a divine sensation in her abdomen. “You know, I was wet during every session we ever had, J. Your muscles were so tense and I knew that if I could just suck you off... then you might open up to me...” She began to think about her fantasies of giving him sexual pleasure while he was locked in his straitjacket and seated in his chair. She imagined being down on her knees with her lips around his cock, fervently licking and sucking with her mouth as her hand helped pump his long shaft until he finally came into her. She so eagerly wished to know what noises he made during an orgasm.

“I _was_ tense... And the sex we had in that sub-basement... I don’t even know how I lasted so long,” he told her as he lifted his face and began to kiss her earlobe. “If only you _had_ offered yourself earlier, I might have been your most compliant patient.”

“Is that right? So if I had told you that I wasn’t wearing panties under my skirt for several of our sessions, you would have told me all of the secrets about yourself, hm?”

“You weren’t wearing panties under your skirt?” Joker asked, the yearning heavy in his voice as he gave a slight growl.

“Sometimes... I wondered about sitting on the edge of the table in front of you... and maybe you would see up my skirt... Maybe you would push your face between my legs or maybe I would pull your pants down so you could fuck me.” She leaned in and softly kissed his parted lips. “I wanted it so much that I was late few times to our meetings because I had to touch myself in my office as I thought about you,” she admitted to him.

“You touched yourself thinking about me when I was your patient?” he asked as an electrical current practically awoke every cell in his body. He found her slick entrance and pushed a finger inside where he curled it and pressed against her g-spot.

Harleen gasped as he entered her and she shook her head up and down. “I touched myself all the time thinking about you... I... I wanted to feel you in me, J... I wanted to give you the pleasure and the release that I knew you needed,” Harleen whispered intimately in his ear. She soon began to moan as he found a rhythm that set her nerves on fire.

“Oh, Dr. Quinzel, the things you do to me,” he said as he pushed his stiff cock onto the side of her leg.

Harleen’s moans became louder and more ragged as he continued to push his finger inside of her. He quickened his pace and she grabbed onto his strong arm for support.

“I used to jerk off after every session with you,” he said quietly as he breathed into her hair. “You made me so hard that I couldn’t help it. I wanted you to make me cum.”

His whispered words swirled around her head until she felt the euphoria strike her like a bolt of lightning.

“Oh, god!” she screamed out as she clenched around his hand. She grabbed the nape of his neck as she arched her back, thrusting her breasts out, their beautiful profiles half-emerged in the water in front of him. She continued to moan as he maintained the rhythm of his finger inside of her. “Wait... wait... don’t...” she couldn’t get out her words as a second, even more powerful orgasm almost immediately rocked her body. Joker was the only man who had _ever_ been able to do that to her.

Joker smiled and breathed heavily as she grabbed his hand and held it steady, unable to take any more of the rapturous torture. He was ready to explode and surprised he hadn’t already having been pressing himself against her body.

“Harley,” he said in a raspy and gruff voice, “I need to be in you.”

His words were simple, but incredibly arousing to her. Another wave of warm tingles washed through her body as she thought about how much he needed her body to pleasure his own. She reveled in being his source of pleasure. She turned around on his lap so her back was on his chest and she spread her legs, reaching down between them to find his cock as he dipped even farther down into his seat.

He felt his tip press against her slick entrance—a wetness he could identify even in the water—and she pushed herself down onto him. The buoyancy provided by the water paired with their position made him crave his promised ecstasy. His hands grabbed her floating breasts as he pushed deeper and deeper inside of her warm entrance. He began to circle his finger carefully around her sensitive and swollen clitoris as he rocked against her body and bit the back of her neck.

“Oh, fuck... Fuck, Harley,” he spoke in earnest as he continued to push his desperate cock into her while kissing her ear. He leaned back as far as he could go and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her body so it was completely pressed on his chest. He gasped in pleasure as he moaned dirty things in her ear.

“You make me so hard, Harley,” he spoke softly to her. “I want to cum in you,” he said at another point between seemingly pained grunts and anguished sighs. He grabbed both of her breasts and squeezed as he rocked himself deep inside of her. His blood was pulsing through his body and his wound started to bleed profusely during his excitement, but neither noticed as they were so focused on each other.

Harleen tilted her pelvis and leaned forward slightly, accommodating his length even more. He leaned forward to match her position.

“Face me... turn around,” he practically demanded as he pushed her away. Harleen complied, swimming away and quickly turning around, only to be immediately pulled back to him like a magnet. She wrapped her legs around his torso and positioned him again at her entrance, pushing him into her as if it were their default state—enmeshed in a tight embrace until the end of time. She rocked onto his pelvis as his lips found hers before he had to pull away.

“I’m gonna cum, Harley,” he panted into her mouth as he suddenly exhaled a sharp breath.

Harleen pushed herself as hard as she could around him, enveloping every inch of his cock within as he came inside of her. The orgasm electrified his body in a release that he needed. Every orgasm with Harleen was like heaven and the tension he held in his muscles just melted away. He felt relaxed as he began to come down from his high.

“Thank you,” he said as he kissed her with lips that he still didn’t have control over quite yet. He sighed as he fell back against the wall of the tub, staring at Harleen as she smiled at him. He didn’t deserve someone so perfect... and yet here she was.

Harleen continued to smile at the man that she had spent the past year falling in love with over and over. She looked at his gorgeous face—pale with scars and tattoos—and saw the face of a man and not a monster. His life had been full of such tragedy that she knew she needed to protect him at all costs. She knew she would do anything for him. She would kill for him. Without thought. Without hesitation. She leaned against his body and listened to the beat of his heart.

“J, you’re bleeding again,” she announced with concern as she noticed that the water was discolored.

“It’s okay... You can patch me up again. It was worth it,” he said as he hugged her hard around her waist and pulled her down onto his now satisfied cock.

“You think Frost is gonna be mad that we had sex in his tub?” Harleen asked as she looked up to his face.

Joker chuckled at the thought. “Well, he better get used to it, because we’re going to be in here every night until I can get one of these installed upstairs. Bastard has been keeping it all to himself...”

Harleen giggled and kissed him on his cheek. “I like that idea,” she said, resting her head back on his chest. It was the perfect end to a terrible evening, and she was happy to have Joker safe and sound in her arms.

*****


	35. Chapter 35

Joker’s heart nearly stopped as he watched Harleen step into the dining room of the yacht tethered to the pier in Gotham Harbor. She looked as gorgeous as a movie star in her sleeveless white dress with its plunging neckline and embroidered gemstones along its bodice. A tall slit up her side revealed a long, tan leg and shiny green stiletto pumps.

She looked around the room in surprise and then back to Frost who had helped her onto the mysterious boat. She knew that Joker had plans for a date this evening—New Year’s Eve—but she had no idea that it involved a party on a yacht in the upper harbor under the fireworks.

“Hey,” Frost had approached her hours ago at the mansion. “J wanted me to give this to you to wear for your date tonight.” He handed her a giant silver box with a beautiful fabric ribbon and bow. He said something about really needing to see your ass in this... I didn’t ask.”

“What is this?” Harleen asked as she examined the package.

“Well, if we know J...” Frost started, “and we do know J... I’m going to venture a guess and say that this is probably a skimpy dress for you to wear. Oh, and these, too,” he said as he handed her a bag with a shoebox.

“Where is he, by the way? I haven’t seen him since two o’clock when he said he had to go run an errand,” Harleen said as she took the bag and gave Frost a suspicious look. Joker was not the kind of man to simply run an errand.

“It’s a surprise date,” Frost said as a smirk traveled across his face. “That’s all I can say. You’ll just have to wait... I’m your chauffeur for the evening and I’m supposed to get you there at ten o’clock sharp, so that means that we should leave here no later than nine,” he stated as he looked at his watch.

“Why the secrecy?” Harleen asked with excitement as she peeked into the shoebox and glimpsed a shimmering green heel inside. “Ooh...”

Frost shrugged his shoulders knowingly while he looked away, the smirk still plastered on his face. “It’s six now, so I’ll see you in three hours outside of my office...”

“You got it, Frosty,” Harleen said playfully as she smiled and turned away, anxious to get to the bedroom and try on her new outfit.

Three hours later on the dot, an excited Harleen stepped out of the elevator and made her way to Frost’s office. The once gaping hole in the wall from seven days prior was now sealed with two new fortified sets of doors—ones that not even a grenade could defeat. They were beautiful in their design and fit in nicely with the décor, but would be sure to provide an entrance that no one could break into.

“Wow,” Frost couldn’t help but say as he stepped out of his office and into the hallway. “Vanessa really has a good fashion sense... It’s not as skimpy as I was expecting.”

“Oh, so Van picked this out?” she asked as she looked down at the sleek fabric and sparkling gemstones. “Yeah, she _does_ have good taste...”

After a one-hour car ride from the mansion to the pier in Brooklyn, Harleen found herself stepping onto the expensive yacht where she saw Vanessa sitting at a table in the windowed dining area. Suddenly, all eyes in the room of thirty people turned to her as a violinist in the front corner began to play the most hauntingly beautiful tune. She squinted her eyes and saw that it was Teddy, the huge man who was most often charged with guarding the club.

“Teddy plays the violin?” Harleen said as she turned to Frost who had grabbed her arm and held her in place with his elbow. “Jonny... what’s going on? Where’s J?”

All of the people she had met over the past year were staring at her and smiling—Miles, Fritz, Junior, Chubs, Frenchie, Floyd... She looked up at Frost again who smiled at her and kissed her sweetly on the cheek. She surveyed his face with seriousness in her light green eyes as the realization began to set in. There was an older man standing opposite of her near the front of the room in his full ship captain regalia.

Her heart started to beat faster as blood rushed through her body, sending hot, anxious tingles through her skin. That’s when she saw him.

He stepped out from an entrance near the front of the room. It was Joker in a black tuxedo, a crisp white shirt, a black bowtie, and a white carnation in his lapel. His skin was pale and his lips were colored with a slight dark cherry tint. But it was his hair that caused her to gasp out loud. He had dyed it black and he looked... amazing. His striking good looks arrested her mid-stride as Frost attempted to walk her toward him.

“Oh... my...” Harleen exhaled as she stared at the man in front of her, her mouth agape in a stunned amazement. “You look... incredible...” she said to Joker as she finally reached him. Frost let go as Joker held out his forearm for her to grab.

He leaned in and spoke quietly into her ear. “You are absolutely gorgeous...”

Harleen smiled. “I’m not wearing any panties,” she whispered to which he responded with a sharp exhale of hot breath onto her neck.

“If I may get started,” the captain said out loud as the din grew quieter and the music stopped. “I’ve been asked to keep this very short and sweet... I’m not technically permitted to do this, but I’m being paid well, so...” He nodded at Frost who stepped forward with a small black box and placed it in his hand.

“We are gathered here today to unite J and Harleen in marriage. Is there anyone here who opposes the marriage of these two individuals?”

There was silence throughout the dining room as Joker and Harleen stared into each other’s eyes. Harleen never once thought that Joker would truly go through with an actual wedding ceremony—it just never seemed like his style. But he knew how much it would mean to Harleen, and he wanted to live his life to please her in every possible way.

“Does the groom have anything to say to the bride?”

Joker shook his head up and down as he looked from the captain to Harleen. “Harleen Frances Quinzel...” he said holding her hands in his, “you know this is not easy for me... But you saved me in so many ways. I look forward to spending the rest of my life with you.” Never one for many words, he finished his statement and pulled her soft hand up to his lips, kissing her delicate fingers. Harleen stared at him as she bit her lip and smiled, tears starting to fill her eyes.

“And does the bride have anything to say to the groom?” the captain asked as he turned toward Harleen.

Harleen looked from Joker’s face to the captain and back. “Well... I wasn’t prepared for this...” she nervously chuckled as she carefully dabbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “But I guess I want to say that I’m so happy that I found you, J. You taught me... You taught me to take chances and follow my heart...” she said as she smiled and sighed contentedly. “My heart belongs to you... and I can’t wait to start our family together.” A somewhat excited murmur progressed through the crowd after she spoke her words, but she continued. “I love you, J... I love you more than anything.” There was a pause as one of the men handed her a handkerchief for a tear that had tumbled from her eye.

“At this time, I would like to present the rings to the bride and groom,” the captain said as he opened the black box and carefully placed a ring into each of their outstretched hands. “Please take this moment to place the ring on your partner’s hand as a representation of your eternal love and commitment to each other.” He watched as Joker placed a simple yet beautiful white gold wedding band onto Harleen’s finger after which she returned the gesture, placing a beveled platinum ring onto Joker’s long, slender finger.

Harleen stared at the ring on his hand before moving her gaze up to his face as she smiled, tears filling her eyes yet again. She couldn’t quite believe that she was about to marry the man standing before her. She was going to marry _The Joker_. She—Dr. Harleen Quinzel, a licensed psychologist and erstwhile doctor for the criminally insane—was marrying her former patient. And Joker—a monster known for absolute destruction and fear—was settling down with a woman after all of his years of bachelorhood.

The audience stared at the couple as they watched the ceremony unfold. Most of Joker’s men simply couldn’t fathom how a man like him could have ever fallen for a woman to the point that he let her into his life. No woman was ever allowed into his world. But they knew how special Harleen was. They all cared for her and treated her like the queen that Joker insisted she be treated. It had been exactly one year and one week since he had brought her into his life and his men could see the change. They could see him soften as a result of Harleen’s mere presence and they appreciated it greatly—no one more so than Frost.

Frost sat next to Vanessa and squeezed her hand tightly. He had always tried to be the rational and logical voice in Joker’s ear as they built the empire together over the past ten years. As much as Joker portrayed himself as having a hardened heart, Frost knew that this wasn’t the case. He was so thankful for Harleen; she was the best thing to ever happen to Joker. And now Frost had his own light at the end of a long tunnel: Vanessa. She was kind and loving and, not to mention, unbelievably sarcastic and quick-witted. Just like Harleen, she was somehow able to compartmentalize the person that Frost was versus the lifestyle he led. It was more than just the incredible sex they had been having; it was a connection on a deeper level. Frost kissed her hand as he brought it to his lips leaving her to smile a perfect set of white teeth at him.

“By the power vested in me as a captain of a sea-faring vessel, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the captain proclaimed aloud to the crowded room. “You may now kiss the bride!”

Joker took a deep breath, his chest heaving as he pushed the air from his lungs, and looked deep into Harleen’s eyes—the same eyes he had looked into a million times before. He thought about the first time he had ever met her in solitary confinement in Arkham Asylum. She somehow saw something redeemable about him then, though he never quite understood why. She had pulled him from the dangerous precipice that he had so cavalierly and carelessly balanced upon. She saved him. He narrowed his eyes as his mouth fell slightly open—a look that was sure to send shivers up her spine—and he reached his hands to the side of her face, staring into her eyes and stepping closer.

Their lips found each other as they became locked in a soft kiss, their mouths sucking gently and their tongues swirling around as Harleen let out a quiet moan that only Joker could hear. He pushed his hands through her hair as she reached hers and locked her fingers around the back of his neck. The kiss was tender yet passionate as Joker moved one hand to the small of her back and pulled her in even closer to his warm body, the blood rushing through him, stimulating his entire core. He couldn’t help but stiffen upon feeling her lips on his, enticing every last nerve ending in his body.

“Ladies and gentleman, I present to you the married couple, Harleen and J!” the captain shouted as the pair continued their loving kiss. The dining room burst into cheers and applause at the statement while tears fell from Vanessa’s happy eyes.

Harleen pulled away from Joker and pushed her hand through his black hair. “I love you,” she said. “More than anything. I would do anything for you.”

Any doubts that Joker had ever had about her love for him had completely vanished. He knew she loved him and she had proven on several occasions that she would do anything for him. It’s not everyday that you will find a woman to break you out of jail, kill two co-workers to save your life, and kill a police officer to preserve your freedom. He smiled as he thought about those truths. He would never meet a woman like Harleen again and he knew that he had to protect her at all costs.

“I love you more,” he responded as he leaned in to kiss her again.

The crowd cheered again as someone yelled out, “Get a room!” Joker was certain it was Frost, who winked at the man as he caught his gaze. Joker nodded and smiled back, his silver caps glimmering in the candlelight.

Joker and Harleen were at each other’s side the entire night, kissing and touching each other at every chance, wanting to but never finding the chance to excuse themselves to enjoy some quality alone time on the lower deck.

“You look so beautiful,” he told her as they eventually broke away from the crowd and walked out onto the deck into the open air under the stars.

“Thank you,” Harleen replied sheepishly as she grabbed her bare arms in the cold breeze. Joker immediately removed his suit jacket and placed it on her shoulders, pulling her in for a hug. “I love the black hair... Will you keep it for a few days? It’s a real turn-on,” she told him as she looked up into his shining blue eyes.

“Yeah, it will take quite a few days or weeks to wash out... I figured the green might be too eye-catching while we were out here on the boat,” he explained as he looked around at the other boats nearby in the harbor. “My wedding night is one that I really didn’t want any public recognition. I didn’t want to risk it.”

“What about the captain? And the staff?” Harleen asked as she looked in through the windowed dining room.

“On my payroll and being compensated quite nicely, if I may say so,” he said as he kissed her on the crown of her head. “Amazing how money really can buy you practically anything...”

Frost and Vanessa stepped out onto the deck to join the couple as they looked at the sparkling skyline of Gotham City on eve of the new year. Vanessa hugged Harleen for the thousandth time that night and told her how happy she was for her as she pulled her away from Joker to talk.

“So... I hear things are going pretty well with you and Jonny...” Harleen said, unable to hide the huge smile from her face.

“Oh, well, you know... we women are so attracted to those dangerous types...” Vanessa opened her mouth widely and smiled while giggling like a little girl. “Yeah... things are going... really well...” Even in the cold air, Harleen could see a deep blush rise in the apples of her cheeks.

“Oh, I see... so you’ve, uh... you know...” Harleen replied unable to suppress her smile.

“God, yes!” Vanessa practically exclaimed as she caught the attention of Frost and Joker whose heads both turned to look in her direction. She grabbed her friend’s jacketed arm as she continued to smile, her infectious laugh filling the air. “And it’s _so good_ ,” she said with an intense enthusiasm.

“Van, I’m so happy for you,” Harleen said as she tilted her head and smiled at her best friend. “I’m so sorry that I had to keep all of this from you.”

“It’s okay, Harl. You did what you had to do to protect yourself and... and... your new husband,” Vanessa countered as she looked over at the attractive man with jet black hair. “You’re really lucky, and I probably wouldn’t have thought that one year ago. You went to the police exactly one year ago, can you believe that?”

“I can’t believe it... and I can’t believe everything that has happened in this past year,” Harleen said as she shook her head back and forth. “If not for J, I’d still be stuck in that hellhole at Arkham.”

Vanessa smiled and held her friend, her huge blue eyes searching Harleen’s. “I’m so happy for you. When will you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“Probably not until I’m five months along... I’m so scared, Van! I’m really scared about this whole _being pregnant_ thing,” Harleen admitted as she looked out to the black waters in which the yacht was silently floating.

“Oh, sweetie... I can’t even imagine, but I will be here for you the entire time, okay? Whatever you need, I’ll be there,” Vanessa said sincerely as she smiled again.

“I love you, Van. Thank you for being there for me,” Harleen replied as she hugged her friend for several long seconds. She pulled back as tears filled her eyes thinking about how special Vanessa was to her.

“I love you too, Harl...” Vanessa responded. “And I love this dress... Whoever picked it out really has good taste!” She laughed as Harleen chuckled heartily at the statement.

“I do love it,” Harleen told her. “So, you must have had some inkling about tonight?”

“Hm... Not really... Jonny is pretty good at keeping secrets and misdirecting me. I just thought this was going to be a New Year’s Eve celebration, and look what it turned out to be!”

“I know... talk about a surprise that I was _not_ prepared for!” Harleen laughed as she thought about walking into the dining room on Frost’s arm totally unaware of what Joker had planned for their “date night.”

“I’ll say! I’m so happy for you, I really am...” Vanessa smiled warmly at her friend and held her hands in her own. “You deserve everything good in life.”

“Thanks, Van. So do you,” Harleen replied as she looked over her shoulder at Frost and Joker. Her new husband was gorgeous as he leaned against the railing in his crisp white shirt with black bow-tie. Strands of his black hair blew in the breeze and fell into his face.

“I like his black hair,” Vanessa said as if she could read Harleen’s thoughts. “He’s actually a really, really attractive guy.”

“You should see him without his clothes on,” Harleen said solemnly as she turned to her friend.

Vanessa erupted into a fit of snorts followed by laughter. “I have!” she practically yelled as an astonished look washed across Harleen’s face. “I mean... I don’t mean it like that! Oh my god, Harl, I’m so sorry, but I didn’t believe him when he told me he was your mobster boyfriend. I couldn’t believe it! I really couldn’t! So... he showed me some pictures to prove it. And they... they were quite revealing.”

“Oh my god... Vanessa!” Harleen yelled in faux anger as she playfully slapped her friend on the shoulder before covering her face with her hands. “How much did you see?” she asked as she peeked through her fingers.

“Honestly... uh... pretty much everything!” Vanessa couldn’t help but laugh uncontrollably. “You are one lucky woman!”

“You know it!” Harleen replied as she tilted her head back and howled in laughter. “I have to tell you this... J just told me that his whole family was Scottish—both his mom and dad’s side—which means that traditionally he would have worn a kilt to an event like this. Could you imagine?”

“They don’t wear underwear under kilts, do they?” Vanessa asked as her nostrils flared and a smirk traveled across her lips.

“No, they do not...” Harleen’s voice trailed off as she made a gurgling noise and pretended to drool.

“Well, then, he would need an extra long kilt!” Vanessa snickered and snorted, causing Harleen to do the same. The men looked over at them again in wonderment.

Frost turned back to Joker and shook his head as he chuckled to himself. He loved to see Vanessa happy, something that his wife so long ago couldn’t truly express after she fell deep into the throes of her illness. He looked out at the city and into the sky where a spotlight with a familiar symbol shone on the clouds high in the atmosphere.

“Hmph,” Frost said as he stared at the light. “Even the poor bat doesn’t get a break on New Year’s Eve.”

“Yeah... and surprisingly it’s not us causing the ruckus for a change,” Joker remarked. “I’m gettin’ too old for that shit anyway.”

"I guess they're still looking for that ' _missing_ _cop_ ' too," Frost said as he raised his eyebrows.

"Ha, yeah, good luck with that..." Joker responded.

There was a long silence as the pair stared out over the water, listening to the women chat and howl with laughter.

“Those sure were the good ole days,” Frost said somewhat wistfully as he looked at the city. “I mean, don’t get me wrong—I’m happy as hell where we are now. But we had some good times, didn’t we?”

“Oh yeah, we definitely did... remember that time when Arlo was stone cold drunk and he fell out of the boat? The bat flies in from fucking nowhere and picks him up like a god damned hawk or something... I was pissed off at the time, but it’s actually pretty funny when I think about it,” Joker said as he pushed black strands of hair out of his eyes.

“That dude has been pretty active for some time now,” Frost stated as he looked out at the city again. “He must have a lot of energy or something. He’s gotta be in his thirties at this point.”

“Forty,” Joker said knowingly. “Actually probably just turned forty-one in November...”

“And how the fuck do you know that?” Frost asked as he turned toward Joker with a look of bewilderment.

“Ohhhh... Just call it a little hunch, I guess,” Joker responded with a big silver grin.

Suddenly, the doors opened from the dining room and several more people stepped out. “One minute to go!” someone yelled out.

Joker caught Vanessa’s eye and lifted his chin as she informed Harleen who had her back to him. Harleen turned around and walked toward him as they could hear the faint cheers from the city across the water. She found herself in his tight embrace once more as she looked into his intense eyes. The world became blocked out around them, as if they were the only ones standing on the boat. Their lips crashed together in a fiery kiss as people streamed onto the deck around them. But they didn’t care. They didn’t even notice.

She felt his hand on her naked thigh as it moved up the slit in her dress to the top of her legs. He exhaled hard as he realized that she was not wearing any underclothing as she had promised.

“What are you doing to me, doll?” he asked as he kissed her fervently, unable to contain the passion welling up from within.

They could hear people all across the harbor on their boats count down from ten to one, finalizing it with a loud “Happy New Year!” Joker and Harleen smiled at each other, their lips still touching and his cold hand pressing into the heat between her legs. Fireworks exploded overhead as they continued to kiss, her hands pushing through his hair and her fingernails scratching down his neck. He pulled away, stretching his mouth into a tight smile as he looked up at the sky and back down to her pleading eyes.

“I need you right now...” he said as he pushed his fingers between her wet folds while pressing his hardened cock against her pelvis. “Let’s go find a quiet place downstairs where we can be alone...”

Harleen smiled as blood coursed through her body and her legs quivered. “Let’s go,” she said, kissing him again as the fireworks continued to explode overhead.

It was the perfect end to their first year of romance as they held each other tightly under the clear, starry sky now filled with fireworks. They kissed each other with fervor knowing that they would spend the rest of their lives together—lives that would certainly never be the same for either of them again.

**THE END**


	36. AUTHOR'S NOTE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was not enough room for my author's note at the end of the story, so I made it into a chapter. Note that there are some spoilers!

**NOTE: SPOILERS AHEAD!**

I hope you enjoyed reading _Never Let Go_! I appreciate every comment that I receive and every piece of feedback—positive or negative. I love to hear how my words affected you.

I know this was an emotionally rough ride and I apologize, but it was a story that I really wanted to get out of my brain. I began the first few chapters in May of 2017 and then abandoned the work for almost half a year, not returning to it until October. I looked at my old notes for the progression of the story and I decided that I didn’t like it—it was too unrealistic and too steeped in comic book traditions of explaining pivotal events with a glib flick of the wrist. “ _He falls into a basin of chemicals and it changes him on molecular level—what more do we need to explain??_ ” is something I could see being said when Joker’s character was developed over a half a century ago. I don’t like it. And I didn’t like that my own story lacked the realism that I wanted, especially when that is my primary goal. I want my stories to play out like a true crime television series for comic book characters, like a Netflix series, and I hope I did it justice with this new work.

I ended up thinking a great deal about what I wanted to change to the skeleton of my story and I came up with a rough storyboard of what _Never Let Go_ would eventually turn out to be. Some things were complete serendipity and struck me like a bolt of excited lighting as I wrote. I loved making the dots connect—even if they were so ancillary to the story. For example: Uncle William killing the parents of a young boy on the street (did you make the connection?). Jack meeting a boy named Bruce (I wonder what _his_ last name is?). Vanessa being the daughter of Dr. Crane (makes sense why she and Harleen bonded so much!). Frost possibly referring to having met Selina Kyle and knowing of her fighting ways (it’s in there!). Joker realizing a long lost relative was closer than he knew the whole time (was it a surprise?).

When I write, I strive for realism. I want characters to have appropriate behavioral responses and to stay true to themselves. I tried hard to give all of my characters an understandable backstory that guided their present-day reactions (Harleen probably being the most relatable for me since I could understand her on a personal level). However, Joker is always tough to write for. He’s tough because I know that the fandom has a certain expectation of his characterization. I also know that I probably didn’t live up to that expectation. So, before you skewer me over a pit of flames, please allow me to explain my rationale.

My Joker is not like the Joker in the comics and I think it’s important to note that there are many portrayals of his personality—I just happened to choose the one that is not mainstream. For my writing, I wanted my Joker to have dimension, to have a purpose, to have an explanation for his motives, to have emotion, to have vulnerabilities…

In the comics, he is portrayed as a psychopath—careless, aloof, impetuous, impulsive, deranged, insane… I could go on and on with the descriptors… I gave this a great deal of thought and there was something that I simply could not reconcile. It was this: If Joker is truly psychotic, how can he possibly run a billion-dollar empire? How could he possibly run _any_ empire? How could he even be trusted to run a fucking lemonade stand at the side of the road?

It’s not possible.

If Joker is that psychotic, there is no way that he would have the wherewithal to sit down and make a long-term plan. He might be able to plan a bank heist, but to amass resources and sustain relationships? It’s not realistic. He would need to have some level of sanity, of comprehension, of understanding…

During my time as a state social worker (just a few years ago), I remember contacting this super secure state mental hospital to talk about one of their patients. The man I spoke with was the supervisor of a unit of male patients who could basically be the prisoners of Arkham Asylum: sexually deranged, physically abusive, completely lacking any empathy or remorse, wholly narcissistic and focused solely on themselves. Does this sound familiar?

These men couldn’t be trusted to live out in the real world. They wouldn’t be able to balance a checkbook or take care of a goldfish. They have severe psychoses that prevent them from connecting with reality. So, in my portrayal of Joker, there is no possible way that he could fit this mold of the crazy, insane person and still operate an empire or still maintain connections with other human beings on a long-term basis.

Think about the movie Suicide Squad—he was surrounded by absolute opulence: his car, his clothes, his club, his mansion, his money. Clearly there is something much, much deeper to his persona than simply a deranged, maniacal lunatic who skips and laughs and sprays poison from his lapel flower. The Joker from Batman Begins, on the other hand, had more of the deranged personality, but you certainly didn’t see him surrounding himself in opulence and building an empire. Instead, he built a terrorist cell set on a hasty course of mass panic. The Joker I portrayed is not the latter kind of Joker. He is calculated with his risks and thoughtful in his actions. He commands more than a mere terrorist cell. He has an entire organization of men on his payroll—he has to place his trust in them and not kill them with an impulsive pull of the trigger.

To me, the outward crazy Joker persona in my story was an act. It has to be an act, at least for him to exist at that level of wealth and affluence and to operate within the construct of reality. You know he might _seem_ terribly insane as he walks in the club, screaming in people’s faces, holding guns to their foreheads, but the moment that he walks into his office alone? The façade disappears. You know it does. He becomes serious. You know that the deranged glint he had in his eye vanishes and is replaced with something more like stoic determination. That is _my_ Joker.

My Joker has many layers. His outer shell is what he portrays to the world: scary, deranged, maniacal, demonic, psychotic. I would say that he developed this persona to protect and shield his inner self, much like actual men do in real life—real men just don’t go to those extreme lengths. For example, we teach our young boys to suppress their emotions to the point that they feel like they are supposed to be emotionless robots as adults. I think my Joker had this same battle within him, which I alluded to over and over: the Man vs. the Monster. I would say that my Joker had acted as a monster for so long (while living up to the name) that he believed he _was_ a monster and never a man. How could he be? He killed people, he stole without a second thought, he did some pretty awful things. I think he simply relegated himself to being a monster.

I also can’t discount the role that the drugs played in changing his brain. There are drugs out there that can certainly do damage to a normal brain, causing a person to essentially develop a psychosis. I would say that this happened to Joker. The drugs made it easier for him to become the Joker, but he was still Jack Napier underneath it all.

I think that was his greatest struggle: Man vs. Monster… Jack vs. Joker. And I think that Harleen was very attuned to that struggle. She was able to chip away at that outer façade and see not only his struggle but also see that he had sincere emotional vulnerabilities beneath it all. And, to me, that is what made his character worth caring about.

If he were just the outer shell—just a crazy nutjob—then I honestly wouldn’t give one shit about him or his backstory. I would only care about how he affected those around him. If he had no capacity to feel any emotion like love, empathy, sadness—anything other than anger or lunacy—then there would be no story. I feel like the character Uncle William was more of a representation of this more traditional Joker. But you know what? I never wanted William to persevere. He did not deserve to live out the rest of his life, and I did not shed a single tear when he was killed by young Jack.

When I spoke to the man at the state hospital, he literally told me that his men would never be rehabilitated. They would live there until they died. This was hard for me to hear because I want to believe that people can be rehabilitated, I want to hope for the very best in people. But I believe what he told me and I drew from _that_ to create the character of Uncle William.

Ultimately, this was a story that I had to make a personal emotional investment into. These are characters that I cared enough about—and believed in—to write a 235-page Word document and over 122,000 words on their past and present lives. I’m sorry if it didn’t fit the archetype of Joker’s personality that we have long been fed and that you may have expected. But, you know what? I guess that’s why it’s called fanfiction. These are our own worlds that we are creating and we can do whatever we want!

Thank you again for reading! It has been such a pleasure.

XOXO,

D

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this huge labor of love! Please leave a kudo or a comment to let me know what you think!  
> XOXO,  
> D


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